


A Storm is coming

by MrsLittletall



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Canon character deaths, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nosebleed, Temporary Character Death, Tsundere Ornstein, Vomit discretion shot, canon-divergent, future characters will be added with new chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsLittletall/pseuds/MrsLittletall
Summary: The Chosen Undead stumbles into the Dark Moon Tomb after having obtained the lord vessel, close to give up on their mission. But maybe he just needs a little bit of unexpected help?AKA as Ornstein follows the Chosen Undead during their journey through the second half of Lordran.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks goes to tumblr user oreostein for inspiring me for the name of my Chosen Undead and the title of this story. A thanks to all who send me suggestions anyway.

Ornstein had told Gwyndolin to take a rest. 

Since he had escaped death after his battle with the Chosen Undead, suffering some severe injuries, Gwyndolin had taken care of him almost every waking minute. He could see how exhausted they started to become and since he was feeling better he had told them to go rest, he would be fine on his own for a few hours. 

Ornstein just laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling. It must have been two or three weeks since he had woken up, confused on why he wasn't dead, having to face the horrible truth that the one most dear to him had died in this battle. And while Ornstein knew that his wounds would heal and only leave a few new scars, the wounds in his heart felt like they would never be able to close. He missed Smough, who had been his lover, every waking moment. The executioner had been one of the few people still near to him, one of the few who hadn't died and Ornstein couldn't help but blame himself. He had at least promised Gwyndolin that he would never let anything happen to them, they were the last one left in his life and he would rather die than letting something harmful happen to them.

So he froze when he heard that ominous sound of someone crossing the fog gate that Gwyndolin had put up in front of the Dark Moon Tomb. Ornstein didn't spent a second thought about it, he got out of the bed, grabbed for his spear that leaned next to his armour at the wall and staggered towards the hallway. He hadn't heard Gwyndolin talk to someone, they were surely still asleep. And he wouldn't let someone assassinate them under his watch.  
___

The one they had called a Chosen Undead, but actually preferred to go by the name Tempest, had decided to enter the fog gate after he had kneeled before it for an absurdly long time. He had found this ring from a trip to the catacombs earlier and remembered some of the tales of the Dark Moon Blades. Maybe.. with this ring he should be able to meet Dark Sun Gwyndolin, who was said to be the last born of Gwyn and one of the remaining deities in Anor Londo. 

So after he entered the fog gate, he was surprised to see a tall man standing there, dressed in some purple robes, long red hair into a braid, clutching a spear in his hands, looking very ready to stab him with it, but also... with the slumped position he was in and the bandages around his head, he looked like he had been hurt. Tempest decided to clutch his katana a bit tighter into his hands, he had been attacked without a warning far too often in this land. 

"You... don't come another step closer.", the man hissed. "I won't let you lay a single finger on them."

Tempest cocked his head, opening the visor part of his elite knight helmet to take a closer look at the man. It was obvious that he was hurt and it seemed like it was quite bad. "Um, are you sure you are up for a fight?", he asked. "Cause... you, uh, look like you should stay in bed."

"Silence!", the man shouted. "Why should you have come to this place uninvited if not to try and assassinate them?" He clutched his spear tighter, the knuckles of his fingers turning white. Tempest stared at this spear and the man, both of them looked so awful familiar... Then it hit him like a brick.

"You... you are the dragon slayer! How the hell are you still alive?", he blurted out. With a shudder he remembered the battle against the famous dragon slayer and the brutal executioner. He had died again and again. Stabbed, smashed, electrocuted, impaled, squashed, stabbed again. It had taken him an awful long time to finally get the dragon slayer down and then the executioner had smashed his head under his hammer. How sturdy must the dragon slayer have been to survive such a blow?

"I don't know why I am still alive but you certainly weren't great help in that.", the dragon slayer quipped. "Now just back away and leave or do you want to have another round?" 

Tempest relaxed. "I already beat you, remember?", he said. "Besides, I really don't want to fight you in this state. Actually, I don't want to fight at all. I just don't react very kindly when someone points the pointy end of a blade at me." 

"Why should I believe anything you say?", the dragon slayer hissed.

Tempest sighed. "Look, we can fight if you want, but for me it just means another trip back to the bonfire, for you it could be the end for good."

The dragon slayer just stared at him, he looked baffled that this tiny Undead even assumed that he could kill him, even though Tempest kinda had done it before. Then, something unexpected happen. The dragon slayer muttered: "Oh no, not again.", clasped a hand before his mouth, staggered behind one of the pillars at the wall and then Tempus could hear very clear noises of him throwing up. 

"Yeah, definitely not going to fight you like this.", he said one more time.  
___

Ornstein was standing there, staring at the puddle, wiping his mouth. How absolutely embarrassing. Not only did that Undead not take him serious at all, now he also had shown how absolute weak he was at the moment. But his decision still stood strong, he wouldn't let him lay a single finger on Gwyndolin. So he froze when he felt someone laying a hand on his shoulder, half expecting it was the Undead, but feeling even more horrified when he actually noticed one of Gwyndolin's snakes on the floor. 

"Go back to bed, Ornstein. I will handle this.", they said and turned to the Chosen Undead.

"Thou hast intruded into mine father's tomb, uninvited, thine intentions unclear. If it is thine desire to spill blood in this place, then thou shalt be punished, accordingly." They readied their catalyst, the spell to cast an illusion on the room already on their lips, when the Undead spoke up.

"Um, actually, I came hear to talk.", he said and a clatter implied that he threw his weapons on the ground. "I wanted to make it clear to your knight there.", he cocked his head in Ornstein's direction. "But I wasn't feeling comfortable letting go of my weapons when he pointed his spear at me."

"That is... unexpected.", Gwyndolin said. "What is it thou wish to talk about?"

Ornstein's jaw dropped when he heard Gwyndolin words. "Gwyndolin, you can't be serious.", he started, but Gwyndolin shushed him with a move of their hand. 

"Let us at least hear what he has to say.", they whispered. 

The Undead seemed to have relaxed a bit and kneeled in front of both of them: "Dark Sun Gwyndolin, I am very sorry, but I must inform you, that I can't complete the task assigned to me. I am close to give up and will go hollow soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language and I am pretty sure I fucked up the old english, so if anyone of you sees any mistakes, please tell me, so that I can correct it. 
> 
> I decided to post this chapter already, but this is pretty much all I have. I have an idea for the story and already kinda an ending in mind, but with my writing challenge and another WIP I want to prioritize, this thing will have unregular updates, so bear with me. I promise, that I will finish it, I just can't say how long it will take.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein listens in as the Chosen Undead tells the tale of his adventure so far.

Ornstein had laid down back in his bed, arm folding in front of his chest, carefully to not upset the wound on his chest. He was grumpily staring at the table where this so called Chosen Undead sat together with Gwyndolin, they even had placed a cup of tea in front of him, occasionally sipping at one of their own. Ornstein noticed a cup of tea for him out of the corner of his eyes on the night stand, probably his medicine, but he didn't want to take it yet. He didn't want to leave his eyes off the Undead, he still didn't trust him one bit. 

The Chosen Undead had been talking for a while now... Ornstein decided to listen in, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. 

“So after I finally made it through all that hollows in the Undead burg, suddenly a giant demon came jumping down from above and before I even knew it, I awoke at the bonfire. And had to go through this nightmare again.”, he said. “I can't count how many times I awoke at this bonfire until I finally noticed that I could use the ladder there to my advantage. But one time I was too slow and that thing actually jumped up there and knocked me right off the tower. Dying like this really hurts, you know.” 

Ornstein could see how Gwyndolin's face turned into some kind of pained smile, as if they were feeling really uncomfortable. He balled his fists under the blanket. How could this human even think about making Gwyndolin feel bad? 

“I managed eventually, but only to get burned to a crisp by a freaking drake. Wasn't it his job to get rid of them?” The Undead pointed at Ornstein. 

“I was fighting dragons for your interest.”, Ornstein immediately said. “Dealing with drakes really isn't any trouble at all, anyone even remotely talented in fighting should be able to do that.” It was unbelievable that he lost to a human who hasn't even been able to kill a mere drake. 

“Well, maybe you are more skilled and used to fight things that can fly and breath fire and are like ten times my size.”, the Undead blurted out.

Ornstein already had a quip on his lips, but was interrupted by Gwyndolin.

“Would you please not start to fight and would you just continue your story?”, they asked. They had dropped the ancient speak of the gods after the Undead had said that he nearly didn't had a clue what they were trying to say. Another hint of how pathetic he actually was. 

“Sorry. So, I managed it to make it beyond the drake eventually and then there were hollows again, so many hollows... I still don't know how I actually made it through them. When I found a way back to Fire Link Shrine, that felt like finding a oasis in the desert. Or it must have felt like it, I am pretty sure I have never been to a desert before.” A nervous laugh sounded. 

“And.. and then? A Gargoyle. Which wasn't even that bad, if you don't take the fact in account the battle took place hundreds of meters above the ground on a roof. Actually quite manageable... until the second one showed up! Didn't you think one beast was enough to guard the bell? Why did it have to be two? It took me days to get past them!” 

“Come on, the gargoyles attack in very predictable patterns and one of them breathes fire a lot, which gives you a perfect attack window. These two are hardly a challenge.”, Ornstein commented from his bed. 

The head of the Undead jerked in his direction, Ornstein had the feeling he was glaring at him, but he was too far away to actually see the face, which was still framed by the helmet, only the visor was up. At least the Undead seemed to have turned into a human form, it would have been awfully rude to step in front of Gwyndolin in his hollowed out form. 

“Oh, where was I? Ah yes, after the Gargoyles I first hadn't a clue where to go. And even the other Undead hanging around Fire Link Shrine weren't of any help. One of them was more interested in me telling to hunt down other Undead for humanity, made me kinda regret I unlocked him from the cell. And that strange crestfallen guy only seemed to be mad cause I rang the first bell. I then finally found a door that would unlock with a key I found in the parish. It only let me to the worst mauling of two dogs and a goat like demon I have ever witnessed.” The Undead took a sip from his tea. “I probably don't have to mention that it hurt. A lot.” 

“The demons weren't our fault.”, Ornstein whispered. “They kinda ran wild after everything went to shit out there.” 

“Ornstein has a point there.”, Gwyndolin said. “They really are just natural predators. Even I didn't knew they wandered that far from Lost Izalith...” 

“It's because the black knights aren't there anymore.”, Ornstein commented and fell silent again, awaiting the next part of the story. 

“Anyway.”, the Undead said, taking a deep breath. “That demon had the key for the Depths for some strange reason. It was said that the second bell is down below, so going to the Depths was my best best. At this rate, I was slowly getting used fighting hollows, but having to wade through this hole of human waste wasn't enjoyable, even as an Undead I could smell the rot of that place.” Another deep breath. “And this place was a labyrinth. Wasn't that bad until I fell down a hole and was faced with basilisks. And everyone knows the horrors of being cursed. I am glad I made it out there before they were able to put their curse on me. I would have been finished otherwise.”

“There are basilisk's in the depth? That doesn't sound right.”, Gwyndolin said. “They live in a place far more down below.”

“Well, maybe they wandered or something, what do I know?”, the Undead proceeded his story. “But this time I found a real dragon in this place. Are you really sure you were doing your job right, sir?”, the last word was said in some kind of mocking manner, that made Ornstein fume inside. 

“Well, as far as I knew there weren't any dragons left! I would of course have gone and slay them if I had known about it. But hey, great job at slaying it yourself, Chosen Undead.”, he tried to put a feeling of spite around every syllable, but especially the last two words. 

“I think there has been something wrong with this dragon anyway, it's body was kinda this huuuuge mouth, looked like stuff from nightmares.”, the Undead mumbled, completely ignoring Ornstein's last words. “It had swallowed the key to the Blighttown. Luckily it had spat it out when it died, I hadn't been really fond searching for the key in that thing. If it would have even occurred to me. I mean, how mad must someone be to search for a key in a huge dragon with a gaping mouth on his chest?” 

“Oh, I don't know, you were mad enough to leave the asylum.”, Ornstein said, grinning. The Undead shot him another glare. 

“Would you stop this bickering already?”, Gwyndolin hissed. “I want to hear the rest of the story and come to a conclusion.” 

“Sorry Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein whispered, but didn't take his eyes off the Undead. 

“When I thought what I had to get through this far had been bad, the part that came next was even worse.”, the Undead said. “I mean, we all heard the reasons why it was called Blighttown and I was never very keen to go down there, but I had to and it was... my worst nightmare. I spend several weeks there, sometimes not even able to take more a few steps away from the bonfire. I was sure I would hollow down there, but then I made an effort and made it to the bottom. Where I died of poisoning. Even just walking around in the swamp was poisoning my body. And I thought the stench of the depths had been bad.”

“Well yes, that place was locked for a reason.”, Gwyndolin said and that uncomfortable smile flashed over their face again. 

“I managed to make it through and at the end there was this giant spider lady with a flaming sword. That was quite a shock. I mean, it was kinda nice seeing her upper part but as soon as the bottom part started...”

Both Ornstein and Gwyndolin stared in disbelief at the Undead. Ornstein was the one who spoke first: “Quelaag? But what was she doing there? She and her sisters were tasked with looking after Lost Izalith, she shouldn't be in Blighttown.”

“Yes, indeed, that is strange...”, Gwyndolin muttered. “I am pretty sure I had set up another golem there, reminiscent of the demons spawning from Lost Izalith...”

“So Quelaag is dead?”, Ornstein asked. He remembered the witches of Izalith vividly, they often would have visited the cathedral and have been a great force in the dragon war with their pyromancy. 

The Undead nodded. “Well, she came after me with a sword and her spider body was puking lava, you bet I was fighting against getting cooked alive.”, he said. “But why did you say sisters? There was only one other lady like her and she seemed to be really sick. She was the fire keeper of that place.”

“Two have died when the flame incident happened...”, Gwyndolin said, “But the others were alive and tasked with keeping an eye on Lost Izalith, mainly helping keeping the demons in check. No wonder they could wander so far when nobody was keeping them at bay anymore... What where Quelaag, Quelaan, Quelana, Quelaria and Quelaxis doing?” 

The Chosen Undead clutched his tea cup between his hands and stared from Gwyndolin to Ornstein to Gwyndolin again. “Wait... you didn't knew that? When was the last time you left this city?”, he asked. 

Ornstein and Gwyndolin glanced at each other. “It has been a while.”, they said. 

“Well, I have been tasked with looking over the cathedral so I barely left it the last hundred years.”, Ornstein muttered, more to himself. 

“... Maybe you should put a bit more emphasis on the world outside of this town.”, the Undead muttered, clearly intending that no one of them should hear it, but it didn't escape Ornstein's ears. 

“So, what happened after you rang the second bell?”, Gwyndolin asked. 

“I went back to Fire Link Shine first and that was where the first thing happened, that made me feel hopeless...”, the Undead said. “The fire was out, I found the corpse of the fire keeper in her cell and all evidence pointed that the man in the strange golden armour did it...”

Gwyndolin huffed. “Killing a fire keeper is a huge crime. I am sure the dark moon blades were on his track immediately.”, they said. 

“I am not too sure...”, the Undead said. “I found him in a different place much later. Anyway, I wanted to move on and the big gate next to the Parish had opened up. Earlier there had been this knight in the onion armour sitting before it, but he was gone. I felt a bit worried and stepped into that fortress only to be impaled by three arrows.”, the Undead continued.

“Onion shaped armour? Must have been Catarina.”, Ornstein mentioned and then his face split into a grin. “And you are really an idiot if you ran into this obvious trap right away.” Ornstein started to relax and grabbed for the cup with his medicine. He didn't had to worry about this incompetent idiot anymore. How did he even make it this far? Must have been poor luck. He zoned out a bit while the Undead told the story about Sen's Fortress, a smile crossing his lips every time the Undead told about running into another obvious trap and he only started to listen intensely again, when the Undead started to talk about Anor Londo. 

“And which idea was it to put archer's on that rafters? I completely lost count how many times I was knocked of that roof...”

“32 times.”, Ornstein said and then he could feel the gaze of the Undead practically piercing through him. 

“Don't tell me you counted that.”

“Waiting in that cathedral can be boring, alright?”, Ornstein snapped and put his attention back on his tea cup, which he spun in his hands. Counting the times the Undead's fell off the roof had been one of his and Smough's favourite activity. Thinking about his deceased partner hurt greatly though and he stopped spinning the cup, just staring into it instead. 

“Oh well.”, the Undead said. “After 32 times I finally managed to get past them and the rest of the cathedral felt like, really doable to be honest. I think I finally was getting a grip on this parry thing, that helped with the silver knights.”

“They were always too easy to parry.”, Ornstein mentioned. “I showed them time and time again... “, Ornstein perfectly knew that this silver knights weren't real anyway, they were just reaminated armour, filled with Gwyndolin's illusionary magic which made them remember how to fight. The last real silver knights had left the cathedral a long time ago. 

“And then... well, he and his partner happened.”, the Chosen Undead said, pointing at Ornstein once again. 

“And I really thought I wouldn't be able to beat them. At first I tried to get the executioner down, but with him around.” Another pointed finger at Ornstein, who slowly grew annoyed at this. “It felt pretty much impossible. Lightning bolts from behind, a jumping attack or – and that was the worst – him crossing the whole room in a second stabbing me from behind.”

Ornstein grinned. “That was fun.”, he said and took the last sip of his medicinal tea. 

“Well, eventually I changed my tactic and started to concentrate on the dragon slayer first.”, the Undead said. 

“I have a name, you know.”, Ornstein whispered, too quiet to be heard. 

“And it started to work... It took me a long time, I am sure it had been a month or longer, but one day I managed to bring him down. And then the executioner crushed his head.” He glanced at Ornstein. “Still don't get how you could survive that.” 

_I wish I hadn't._ Ornstein thought. 

“Well, the executioner gained some sick lightning powers, but nothing much changed after that. With the last of my Estus I was able to strike him down and then the Princess gave me the lordvessel.”

Ornstein's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Smough's death. The Undead couldn't have known how much it hurt him... that was basically Smough's murdered sitting there. Even though they had been fully aware and Ornstein even had expected them to die there, he couldn't help but hold a grudge. 

“So why are you here now?”, Gwyndolin asked. “You have surpassed Anor Londo and even beat the guardian's of the cathedral, that proves that you are strong enough to take on the four lords.”

“It is...”, the Undead sighed. “At first I felt ecstatic, but... remember the knight who killed the fire keeper? I found him in Anor Londo, I could invade into his space with some eye orb... and he did put up a really good fight. I managed to win after countless tries, but after I got back I found his armour and it kind of... made me feel uneasy. This guy only tried to serve his goddess and thought he was doing the right thing...” 

The Undead sighed heavily: “I felt a bit at a loss and made a trip to the sunlight altar to pray and there was Solaire, but he wasn't jolly as usual but rather sad... That just felt so wrong.”

“Solaire, who is that?”, Gwyndolin asked. 

“Judging from the name and location probably one of the master's sunlight warrior's.”, Ornstein said. He started to feel drowsy. Side effect of the medicine. 

“Ornstein, you know our laws.”, Gwyndolin reminded him. 

“I haven't said his name.”, Ornstein murmured. 

The Chosen Undead just sat there, baffled. “Wait.. you … know him? The sunfirstborn? Whose name was lost to time?”

“We are not speaking about him here.”, Gwyndolin said. 

“It is for the better, honestly.”, Ornstein said, staring at the wall. 

“Oh, alright...”, the Undead said. “Last there was this crestfallen warrior guy. He suddenly had disappeared from the Fire Link Shrine. I thought he would have finally moved on, but I found him when I tried to enter New Londo... he was hollow and I had to slay him.” His gaze was locked on the table. “And that is when I started to doubt. For now, seeing all these others struggle and facing the same hardship as me helped me going on, but seeing them all having given up or even worse things...” He swallowed, it seemed apparent how hard it was for him to admit it. 

“I am terribly afraid of the next death. What will happen if I give up after this too? I fear I can't fulfil the mission you gave me.”, the Undead finished with a last shaky breath. 

“So.”, Gwyndolin said. “What you are saying is, that you just need a little bit of support on your journey?” 

They glanced over to Ornstein. “Well then, I think I know the right man for this task. He hasn't anything to do right now anyway. Isn't that right, Ornstein?” Their smile was sickeningly sweet. 

Ornstein needed a moment to process their words in his drowsy statue. The Undead seemed to need a moment to. Then they both jerked up and shouted in unison: “You can't be serious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering why Ornstein relaxes midway through and don't think Tempest is a threat anymore, it is, because he easily trusts Gwyndolin to kill him with ease and because he was saying that he would go hollow soon, Ornstein believes that he wouldn't come back after even one death. Also Ornstein, you aren't even interested in the Undead's name? How rude!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest and Ornstein aren't happy with Gwyndolin's decision. But it seems they don't have a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, sorry that this chapter took me so long. I was focusing very hard on another WIP and then on a writing challenge, so that this story got postponed and postponed again. I finally managed to write a chapter that I am satisfied with and I hope you enjoy.

The dragon slayer was the first to talk.

“I can't.”, he said. “I am hurt.”

Dark Sun Gwyndolin huffed at him: “Ornstein, we have waited for centuries, we surely can wait a few weeks more.” They shifted their attention to Tempest: “Or will you go hollow by waiting alone?”

“...No, that not...”, Tempest said. “But... are you serious? I was asking to give the mission to another Undead. There is one that would be perfect for this task, I know he could do it with ease. So, um.. I don't really get why you want me to carry on, with him in tow,” Tempest pointed at the dragon slayer, “when the next death could be my last.” 

“You think I will be in your tow?”, the knight sneered. “Be assured, if we really have to go through with this, you will be the one in MY tow.”

Tempest stepped closer to the bed, in a fit of anger: “I am the Chosen Undead. And I already beat you. Besides, who said that I wanted to team up...” He got interrupted by the soft sound of rhythmical breathing. “He's asleep.”, Tempest noticed, staring at the frame of the dragon slayer.

“It's the medicine, it makes him sleepy.”, the dark sun said. “I haven't asked your name yet.”

“Oh, uh, it is Tempest, like the storm.”, the Chosen Undead said and shifted his attention on the Dark Sun. “I ask once again, you are sure about this? You think him and I should team up? He killed me a dozen times, you know.”

“Well, you will have some time to get to know each other, cause Ornstein clearly needs to heal up first.”, the dark sun said. “Also, you have obtained the lord vessel, that proves that you are worthy. You even managed to find out about this place. I don't think you are as weak as you think.”, they added.

“I don't know.. it all feels so pointless.”, Tempest said. “I think I am just sick and tired of dying over and over again without really dying.”

“Well, then I guess it is fine for you to take a little break too.”, the dark sun said. “But if you want to stay here, it would be nice if you could help around a bit. A good thing to start with would cleaning the puddle in the hallway you came in.”

Tempest was a bit confused: “What puddle?”, he asked, then it hit him. “Oh, that puddle...” He pawed the ground with his feet. “I guess that was kinda my fault somehow... when you stretch it.”

The dark sun raised a catalyst and Tempest instantly braced himself, but relaxed when he saw them conjuring up a bucket and a mop. They also instructed him to a nearby well and once he had grabbed the surprisingly solid made up items, Tempest was off.  
___

 

As soon as the Undead was out of sight, Gwyndolin nudged Ornstein. “Ornstein, wake up for a moment.”, they demanded. 

The dragon slayer sleepily opened his eyes. “Huh, what is it?”, he asked. He pulled himself up slowly and looked around. “Where's the idiot?”

“I have send him out, cause we need to talk.”, Gwyndolin said. 

Ornstein groaned. “Gwyndolin, do I really have to do this?”, he asked. “I can already see myself having to save this idiot out of all kind of totally obvious traps and what the likes.”

“Ornstein, like I said earlier, we have waited centuries for this moment.”, Gwyndolin sighed. “We have come so close. Finally someone managed to obtain the lord vessel. And then they stumble in here, ready to give up. I don't want to have so worked hard for nothing to achieve. I haven't put you and Smough through this hell for this.”

Ornstein winced at the sound of the executioner's name, averting his gaze from Gwyndolin and staring at the wall. 

“I am sorry....”, Gwyndolin said. “That was too soon.”

“Do you really think this is a good idea, Gwyndolin?”, Ornstein asked, gently rubbing at his right temple to fight an oncoming headache, only to feel the thick gaze of the bandages wrapped around his head. 

“...It is the only one I have. Ornstein... I know you have been sick and tired from guarding that empty cathedral for so long. And I know you never expected to come back alive out of this and I am so thankful, that you even were willing to give your life for this cause, being loyal to the end. So, please, this is the last thing I will ever ask from you. Make sure that this Undead links the flame and then you are free to go wherever you want.”, Gwyndolin said.

Ornstein had perked up when Gwyndolin spoke. “...Fine, I'll do it then. But I don't do it because I want to and I doubt that I will ever be able to like this idiot.”, he said. “I'll do it for you and Anor Londo. Consider this my last task as a knight of Gwyn.”

“That's the spirit.”, Gwyndolin said. “And, um, Ornstein? If you ever happen to find my brother or my sister, tell them I miss them...”

Ornstein grinned at Gwyndolin: “You already seem to have an idea what I was planning to do, huh? I promise.” He yawned. “But now I think I want to go back to sleep...” Shortly after saying that, the knight had drifted back into his slumber.  
___

Tempest stood in the hallway, bucket filled up with water in the left hand, mop in the right hand, staring at the puddle of vomit. “Man, that thing is large.”, he murmured to himself. “At least only seems to be oatmeal or something, easy to clean up.” He put the bucket down, wetted the mob and began the cleaning. In his earlier life he probably would have been repulsed by this, but he had seen far worse things on this journey so far, especially in Blighttown. 

“I just hope they won't expect from me to be nothing than their cleaning boy.”, he started to talk to himself. “Hm, but could be better than being a dark moon blade. That sounds scary...” 

He stopped in the middle of his cleaning motion, scolding himself: “Tempest, stop talking to yourself, that is weird.” 

He finished cleaning the spot, went to empty the bucket out and returned to the room in the dark moon tomb. Dark Sun Gwyndolin was looking up when they heard his footsteps. 

“Are you done with the task? Good.”, they said, raised their catalyst and the cleaning supplies in Tempest's hand poofed into nothingness.

“Oh yikes, I am glad I already emptied that out.”, he said. “So, uh, do you want me to do another thing for you?”

“Yes, watch over Ornstein.”, the dark sun said. 

“...Wait, what?”, Tempest had a hard time believing what he just had heard. 

“I have taken care of him for quite some time now and I am only one person. I need some time to recharge. Watch over him for me for a few hours.”, they stood up and stretched. 

“But... what do I do when he wakes up?”, Tempest asked. 

“Just do whatever he wants.”, Gwyndolin said, already wiggling away. Tempest watched them vanish into another room. 

“Well, great.”, he said and leaned against a wall when they had gone out of sight. At last the dragon slayer was asleep for now, so at least they didn't had to interact. Tempest decided to look around in the room. 

It was a room they had entered from the end of the hallway, which had led to the very large coffin of Gwyn, the lord of sunlight. Tempest remembered that it was said that Gwyn wasn't even in this coffin, the tomb was erected more out of honour for their departed lord. And that snake had said something like that Tempest should be the one to succeed Lord Gwyn and take his throne. The dark sun and the dragon slayer knew the lord, right? Maybe he should ask them some questions...

The room he had been led into wasn't very big. There had been a single bed in it where the dragon slayer had laid down in. There was a round table with three chairs around it, he still could spot the tea cups they had drank out of earlier this day. There was a desk with some writing materials, a pot of ink, a quill, some books... In a corner of the room there was the armour of the dragon slayer. Tempest took a few steps toward it to get a closer look. 

It looked as majestic as when the dragon slayer had worn it, but also old, as if it had been centuries since someone had smithed it. That probably was the case, Tempest thought. He had fought in the dragon war, right? That is why he was called the dragon slayer in the first place. He could see some slashes and dent in the armour, with a particular bad one in the helmet, must have been the impact of the executioner's hammer. And then, the weapon. The spear that had thrusted through him this many times, laid on the leggings of the golden armour. Tempest bowed down and picked it up, or more tried to pick it up, that thing was HEAVY. He needed both hands to only lift it and even then it felt like an impossible task to swing it. “And he was swinging that thing with one hand.”, Tempest murmured to himself, lowering the spear back down, walking to the bed the dragon slayer currently occupied. 

There was a chair next to the bed, it looked like it had been simply removed from the table, cause there was still room for one chair more. Next to the bed was a night stand, on it was an empty cup of tea and a jar with some water. Also, there was a bucket standing next to the bed. Tempest wondered if it was meant for the dragon slayer's bodily functions. Did he even need to do that? That guys weren't human as far as he knew. But when he was able to vomit, that probably meant that he had to eat and that would mean... Tempest shook the thought aside, he didn't want to think about it right now. Instead he took a closer look at the sleeping dragon slayer. 

By the lords, he was so HUGE. Tempest knew that there had to be a person under that armour, but he didn't expect the person to be as tall as the armour, even though it made sense in hindsight. It was just... when he wore that armour, it seemed natural to him that the dragon slayer would tower over himself like this, now that he was lying in the bed, he looked like someone who was seriously overgrown. He watched the dragon slayer over carefully. He had a pretty pale skin and was dressed in a purple robe with long sleeves. The features in his face looked surprisingly soft. His eyebrows had kind of a sharp angle to it, but his nose and mouth weren't really pronounced. His eyes were closed right now, so he couldn't make out the colour or shape, but it appeared that they seemed to be pretty large. But what was the most remarking thing about the dragon slayer, was the hair sprouting from his head. 

Red as blood, tied into a braid, went it down to his hips, loosely laying on the bed. From the bangs, that got down to his chin and the end of the braid, it appeared that this hair was immensely curly. And Tempest also got a reminder, where he had seen that colour and curls before... it looked exactly like the plume on the armour of the dragon slayer. Tempest turned around to take a look at the plume off the armour, only to see that it wasn't there. The helmet didn't possess a plume at all. 

“Wait a minute, does that mean it has been your hair all along?”, Tempest said and bowed above the sleeping dragon slayer, to take a closer look at the braid. Suddenly, he got immensely curious how it felt like. He extended a hand, but quickly withdrew it again as if burned, but then extended it again. “I mean, you are asleep, right?”, he whispered. “I am sure you don't mind...” and grabbed the braid. It was... surprisingly soft. He couldn't help but start to trail along the braid, following every curl and he grew more and more fascinated by it. He was thinking about unbraiding it, see how it looked in all its loose glory, when a hand shot up and pinned his arm in its grab.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”, the dragon slayer asked, glaring at him with an emerald flash in his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest and Ornstein have some kind of talk. Gwyndolin takes care of Ornstein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit it right away, writing these parts is difficult. The characters are extremely stubborn, especially Ornstein, and I feel like I have to bend and twist with them so that they act in favour of the story. Please stay with these dorks, I promise they will get better.

Tempest squeaked in surprise and tried to withdraw his arm, but the grip of the dragon slayer was too strong and he couldn't move a single inch. His hand was still clutching the braid. 

“Don't ever think about touching me again.”, the dragon slayer growled. 

“I am sorry.”, Tempest squealed. “Would you let me go? You are hurting me.” 

“First let go of my hair.”, the knight said and jerked up. Then he suddenly let go of Tempest arm, murmuring “Mistake...”, clasped a hand over his mouth and Tempest instantly knew what the bucket was for and handed it to the dragon slayer just in time before he could soil his blankets. Tempest stepped a few steps back from the bed, releasing the braid, asking himself if he should have hold it nonetheless as he watched the dragon slayer noisily puking into the bucket. 

When the dragon slayer was finished, he was fumbling for the jar of water on the night stand and used it to clean out his mouth. He then carefully laid back in the pillows, glaring at Tempest. 

“This is your fault.”, he said. 

“I thought you wouldn't wake up.”, Tempest said, staring anywhere but into the eyes of the knight. 

“How couldn't I wake up when you were so close to me and touching me without my consent?”, the dragon slayer asked. “What were you thinking?” 

“...I wanted to know how it feels like...”, Tempest said. “It looked so soft.”

“You could have at least asked first.” 

“Would you have allowed it then?”

“No.” The dragon slayer crossed his arms in front of his chest, grumbling a bit, then unfolded them again as if the position had been uncomfortable. “Where's Gwyndolin?”, he asked. 

“They asked me to watch over you while they rested.”, Tempest truthfully said. 

“Great, so they left me alone with the idiot?”, the dragon slayer murmured. 

“I have a name, you know.”, Tempest said. 

“Don't care, idiot will suffice for now.” The dragon slayer had a sardonically grin on his face. 

“Well then, dragon slayer.”, Tempest said, putting as much coldness in the last words as possible, and sat down on the chair, feeling the glare off the dragon slayer still on him. Well, that felt uncomfortable. It felt like Tempest should do or say anything, getting some small talk started, so that this awkward silence between them would cease.

“So, how was it feeling like having to guard the cathedral for around a hundred years with a cannibalistic brute?”, he asked in as much of a casual tone as possible.

Tempest started to suggest this question had been a mistake, when he didn't get an answer right away. He slowly turned his head to look at the dragon slayer and was greeted by a face which was hardly able to contain the fury of its owner. 

“Leave.”, the dragon slayer said between clenched teeth. Tempest shot up, the chair falling down in the process. His gaze fell on the bucket. 

“I, uh, I think I will clean this up.”, he said and quickly ran out of the room. 

When Tempest returned to the room, the dragon slayer had laid back down in the pillows, but was still awake. Tempest placed the bucket next to the bed, raised the chair and tiptoed away, sitting down at one of the chairs at the table, at a reasonable distance of the knight. 

“I think I told you to leave.”, the dragon slayer said coldly. 

“Look, I am sorry.”, Tempest said. “I have said something wrong. But the dark sun wants me to watch over you, so I can't leave. I won't talk to you anymore, I promise.”

He heard a deep sigh coming from the dragon slayer. “We need to talk when I am supposed to help you out.”, he said. “Why do you think that what you have said was wrong?”

“Uh, because you clearly were upset about it?” 

“You called him a brute.” 

Who? Oh, he was talking about the executioner. Wait a moment... from every story he had heard, it always had been said that Ornstein, the dragon slayer and Smough, the executioner hated each other. Smough, because he had never been granted knighthood and Ornstein, because he despised the cannibalistic ways of the executioner. 

“...Was that, like, a misconception?”, Tempest asked. 

“Smough was so much more then what people depicted him as.”, the dragon slayer started. “He was kind, understanding, soft, cute and... the light of my life.” He clenched his fists. “And then you came along and killed him.”, he hissed. “And you failed to kill me. This is unforgivable.”

Tempest blinked once, then twice, then shot up. “Wait, WHAT?”, he shouted. “You and Smough were like, a COUPLE?” He could hardly believe his own ears. He would blame it on feeling hollowed out, but right now Tempest was in his human form and his ears were working amazingly well. 

“Yes.”, the dragon slayer just answered. “So I guess now you'll know why I reacted this way. If I just would have been able to follow him...”

Tempest sat down again: “I am sorry, I had no idea...” The rest of the words was lost when he tried to make sense of all of this. 

So, Ornstein, the dragon slayer, and Smough, the executioner, had loved each other. And he supposed they had been happy with each other, as happy as possible living in a dying city at last. And then Tempest had come along and killed one of them. By the lord, would that have happened to him, he would be pissed and devastated too. And nonetheless, the dark sun was expecting them to work with each other? Tempest put his head on the table and sighed. What had he gotten himself into? Should he try and apologize for this? What good would this do? As he was still pondering his option, the dark sun came back into the room. 

“Oh, Ornstein, you are awake. How about some food?”, they asked. They noticed Tempest sitting at the table. “Are you two getting along?”, they asked. 

Tempest was in the process to open his mouth but closed it again, unsure about what to say, when the dragon slayer spoke: “Don't worry, we will manage.” Tempest saw him smile at the Dark Sun, but it felt kinda pained. Tempest just raised his hand in a thumbs up gesture. 

“Some food would be fine, but nothing to heavy.”, the dragon slayer said. Tempest almost offered his help at cooking the meal, but the Dark Sun vanished quickly, muttering “Let's see what I can do.” 

Tempest sighed and strolled over to the bed, sitting down on the chair. 

“I am sorry.”, he said. “But in my defense, I didn't knew you weren't dead. I thought after the executioner had crushed you, you would be gone for good.” 

Tempest could feel the glare of the dragon slayer on him. “And it didn't occur to you to check if maybe the job needed to be finished? Aren't you an elite knight of Astora?” He gestured at Tempest's armour. 

Tempest looked down at him, straightening the blue tabard. “Oh, this? It isn't my armour. I picked it up in the Dark Root Garden, it was laying around there on a corpse. I am from Astora, but I never have been a knight. I just couldn't resist putting this thing on, wearing that armour is pretty much every young Astoran's dream.”, he explained. 

“Oh...”, the dragon slayer said. “I should have figured this out on my own. Still...”, the eyes of the dragon slayer pretty much pierced into Tempest. “I resent that you didn't check and left me to bleed out and to... survive...” The knight averted his gaze from Tempest and stared at the wall instead. 

“I am sorry.”, Tempest said again, not knowing what else to say. 

“Apologizing won't help.”, the dragon slayer murmured. “Just let me heal up, try to stay out of my sight and let us get this done as quickly as possible.” 

Tempest considered their talk to be over and retreated to the table. A few minutes later the Dark Sun came with a bowl of steaming oatmeal and handed it to the dragon slayer. Tempest watched them sit down next to the dragon slayer and keeping him company while eating. Tempest in the meantime, wondered if he would be able to taste the oatmeal now that he had regained his human form for the moment? Since he had become undead, he didn't had experienced any hunger and when he tried to eat something, it tasted like nothing, but that had been in his hollowed out form. Usually, drinking estus was all he needed. It was also a thing he could taste, even though it pretty much tasted like something had put fire and ashes into a bottle. With nothing better to do, Tempest grabbed for the emerald flask at his belt and inspected the liquid inside. What really was it? It got filled up whenever he touched a bonfire, so was it like, liquid bonfire? His thoughts got interrupted when he heard the Dark Sun say: 

“It is time to change your bandages, Ornstein.” 

With the estus flask still in hand, Tempest rushed over to the bed. “Wait a moment.”, he said, excitedly waving around the bottle. “Why can't we use my estus? It heals any wound in seconds.” His excitement abated when he felt both the gaze of the dragon slayer and the dark sun on him. 

“Idiot, that stuff doesn't work on us. It is an Undead thing.”, the lion knight said. 

“Oh...”, Tempest said and then perked up again. “But, what about miracles? That is a god thing, right?” 

“When my sister still would be here...”, the dark sun said. “I am not very skilled in them, my field has always been moonlight magic.” 

“Crap..”, Tempest said and took a few steps away from the bed. “Sorry, I just wanted to help.” 

“Well, I wanted to change Ornstein's bandages now, you can help by getting his hair out of the way.”, the dark sun said. Both Tempest and the dragon slayer froze. 

“I... don't think that is a good idea...”, Tempest stammered. 

“Yeah...”, the dragon slayer added. “I don't want him to touch me. It makes me uncomfortable.” 

“Oh, I should have figured, I am sorry for being so tactless, Ornstein.”, the dark sun said. “But like, feel free to stay here, maybe you learn a thing or two about bandaging wounds. Are you fine with this Ornstein?”

“Ugh, alright.”, the dragon slayer said and Tempest went around to stay at the foot of the bed, inspecting the work of the dark sun. 

They started with the bandage around the dragon slayer's head and as soon as it was off, Tempest had to gasp at how bad this wound looked, terribly swollen and bruised along a laceration which had been stitched. It was no wonder the dragon slayer was feeling sick with that, his brain probably had gotten a good shaking. Tempest once more wondered how in the world he had manage to survive this blow? Tempest never had been able to survive a blow with the hammer when he already had been hurt. He watched the dark sun carefully cleaning the wound, making the dragon slayer wince, it surely must had hurt, before applying a fresh bandage. The next thing that happened, was the dragon slayer undressing himself and as soon as Tempest realized that, he turned red under his helmet, averting his gaze, asking himself why he did that, why he felt like that and forced himself to look back. 

A slight disappointment and a bit of guilt washed over Tempest when he saw the chest of the dragon slayer wrapped in thick bandages. Both legs too, Tempest remembered that they had been a main focus for him, first because the dragon slayer was twice his size and second to rob him of his mobility. The dark sun was changing the bandages on the legs first, but Tempest was more distracted by the countless scars on the dragon slayer's body, a lot of them clearly burns, a particular large one seemed to adorn the left side of his body, probably even going down the back, but he couldn't see it from his position. 

“Don't stare at me like that.”, the dragon slayer hissed, face slightly flushed, and Tempest muttered a quick apology, focusing on the work of the dark sun. Most of the cuts on the legs were already healing good, but one or two were also stitched and it explained why the dragon slayer had stand on so shaky legs when he had first encountered him in the hallway in front of the tomb. 

Now that both legs had wrapped into fresh bandages, the dark sun started to unwrap the one on his chest. Tempest did hold in a breath when he saw the large wound, the one he had inflicted, the one that had made the dragon slayer collapse, but exhaled sharply when he saw the big bare chest which was originally covered by the bandages. It was built so well, probably a result from endless battle, but for some reason, it also gave some soft vibes. An urge to touch it washed through Tempest and he quickly had to avert his gaze, after how badly the dragon slayer had reacted to getting touched at his hair, Tempest didn't want to know his reaction when he would touch his bare chest. Especially when the latter wasn't asleep. 

Tempest face flushed and he felt a certain hotness rise in his head. Oh no, did he found the dragon slayer to be hot? A guy who could crush him easily with his size and in fact did crush him several times in a fight to the death? Tempest could barely believe this and just muttered “I have to get out of here.”, before rushing out of the room, the hotness in his head feeling like it would spill out any moment. Outside of the tomb he removed his helmet, put his hand against his nose and saw the blood dripping on his gauntlet. 

“Oh great.”, Tempest said, leaning against the wall, fumbling for his Estus to take care of his nosebleed. “He doesn't even like you, you fool, and you already are attracted to him...”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein heals up. It is time to go on the journey. But first: Some preparations!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I've got over 40 kudos for this and I haven't even gotten to the action! Did you all like this fic so much? Well, I have a surprise for you, it is a nice, long chapter which moves things forward! Enjoy!

The next few days the atmosphere between Ornstein and the idiot was what he would describe as awkward. Ornstein still needed to heal up and why his injuries weren't life threatening anymore, Gwyndolin assumed that they still would need two to three weeks to fully heal up and of course Ornstein should stay in bed to assure that they didn't open up again. He was used to Gwyndolin not being around a lot, but now the Undead was there pretty much the whole time. Even though Ornstein noticed that he started to look away when his bandages got changed, he could feel the gaze on him far too often and started to get annoyed. 

“Would you please stop staring at me? It is annoying.”, Ornstein snapped one day and the Undead winced like a hurt puppy. 

“S... sorry.”, he said and averted his gaze, staring very hard at the wall. It felt so intense that Ornstein had the assumption he wanted to burn a hole in the wall with his gaze alone. Somehow this was even worse to witness. 

“Alright, fine, look at me if you must, but if you have some trouble with me, just come over and tell me.”, Ornstein sighed. 

“That's not why I stare.”, the Undead said super quickly. “It's just... the whole situation we are in. I mean, having to work together after fighting to the death...” The Undead discontinued his sentence when Ornstein glared at him. “...sorry...”, he whispered and stared at the ground. Even though he wore his helmet, Ornstein could feel the train of thoughts that must have raced through the idiot's mind now. He sighed. He didn't like the guy and he certainly didn't want to have to escort him through a land as perilous as Lordran, but he remembered the time when he had been a clueless knight and he wouldn't have been here in this position now if not for some help, so he waved for the Undead to come closer. The Undead raised his head, looking around as if confused, but got up and came closer, sitting down into the chair that was placed there. Ornstein frowned a bit at this, cause Gwyndolin was using this chair too and it felt just wrong for such a lesser being to sit down on the same space as a god, but Gwyndolin didn't seem to mind it, so he had to swallow his discomfort. 

“You told me that you aren't one of Astora's elite knights.”, Ornstein said, to which the Undead nodded. 

“That is correct. I have been...”

Ornstein interrupted him. “I am not here to hear about your life story. What I want to know, when you haven't been a knight, how in the world did you made it here?”

The idiot stared at him, again, Ornstein had not trouble feeling it through the visor now. “I already told you, when I first came here? I am pretty sure you listened, you made snappy comments all the way through.”

“No, that is not what I meant.”, Ornstein said, his mouth turned into a grin, commenting on that idiot's story had been fun. “I want to know, why haven't you given up sooner?” 

Ornstein expected a lot of things, the Undead being snarky or that he would just deny everything, but what he didn't expect, was the Undead going silent, head hanging low, saying: “...honestly, I have been close to giving up several times. When I fought the gargoyles, when I went down into Blighttown, when I was dying over and over in the fortress, … when I was fighting you..., but...”, he raised his head again. “I pulled through cause I felt I could only go forward. That there wasn't any use into going back or staying put and wait for the end.”

“So why are you ready to give up now?”, Ornstein asked. 

“Because I just couldn't pull through anymore.”, the Undead snapped. “Suddenly I was tasked with killing these beings that once has been lords. How should anyone not lose the will to pull through after hearing this? And that after I already died a hundred times or more. I tried to go on, but I just couldn't anymore. It has become too much!” The last words the Undead shouted. 

“Interesting... so instead of pulling through and get the last challenge tasked from you done, you decided to give up without even trying.”, Ornstein said, rolling his eyes. 

“You are one to talk.”, the Undead said. “As if you haven't given up already.” 

Ornstein's gaze must have felt so sharp for the Undead as if he got pierced, cause he winced as if someone had just stabbed him. “Leave.”, Ornstein said between clenched teeth, shaking with fury. The Undead jumped up, uttered an apology and stormed out of the room. Ornstein sighed deeply and closed his eyes, not wanting to deal with his intrusive thoughts, trying to drift to sleep. 

When Ornstein awoke the next time, he saw the Undead sitting in the chair again, without his helmet for a change and he seemed to be fast asleep himself. Interesting, so Undead still could go to sleep, even though they didn't need to do it anymore. Seeing the Undead sleeping there like that, at once with his face uncovered, Ornstein got curious and he caught himself how his eyes wandered to inspect the face of him. What he saw was.... nothing spectacular to be honest. The Undead's face wasn't even very attractive, his feature felt too pronounced, his nose was a bit crooked and his eyes looked like they were drooping down, giving him the face of a sad sack. All of this was framed with messy, short rusty red hair. The longer he stared, the more he found to be the face charming. Ornstein huffed, averting his gaze, how could he find such an ugly face charming? His head jerked back to the Undead when he heard him move and he slowly opened his eyes, Ornstein spotted that they were blue. 

“What where you doing?”, Ornstein asked. “Watching me sleep?” 

“More like watching over you while you sleep, Lord Gwyndolin has asked me to have an eye on you should you need help.”, the Undead answered. 

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”, Ornstein said grimly. “Besides, you fell asleep yourself, doing a very good job.” 

“Well... I don't have an excuse for that.”, the Undead stammered. “You know, I know you don't like me and want to get this all over with as quick as possible, but for now we seem to be stuck having to work with each other. So why don't you teach me about the lords we have to hunt down? You knew them all personally, right?” 

“Yes, that is correct, it must have been a thousand years already...” Ornstein could hear the Undead gasp at this statement. “Don't look at me like that, if you live as long as I do, a hundred years start to feel like ten years.” 

“It's just... hard to imagine.”, the Undead said. 

“And yet you are unable to die. Who knows, maybe there is an Undead who manages to not go hollow for a thousand years? But I don't think that is possible.”, Ornstein smirked. “So, I am stuck in bed anyway, so I could tell you all what I know. But I will only say it once, so take notes.”

The Undead hastily got to the table in a corner of a room, uncorking an ink pot, grabbing a squill and straightening a scroll. “I am ready.”, he shouted. Ornstein took a deep breath. 

“There is the Witch of Izalith. There had been a huge accident when she tried to recreate the first flame and now she spews out all kinds of demons. We send the black knights down there but they all died and the rest of them followed Lord Gwyn in the kiln and were nowhere to be seen anymore. Lost Izalith how we call it nowadays is a very hot place, so we have to find a method to walk on lava first. If that is even possible.” Ornstein wrinkled his nose and continued with his story. 

“Then we have Gravelord Nito. Pains me a bit to have to end him actually, he has been a good guy, always taking care of the deceased. But now we have reasons to believe that his powers are getting abused, sadly there is no other way than to end the old guy. He resides in the catacombs so bringing a holy weapon should be appropriate. Nito never could never necromance anything that was slain by a holy weapon, guess it was his weakness...” Ornstein stopped for a moment. Nito was one of the few lords he actually felt sorry for. Killing the Witch of Izalith felt like a mercy kill, but Nito had always been very calm and friendly, it felt hard to believe for a being that was a cloak filled with skeletons. Ornstein wondered what would happen to the souls of the deceased once he was gone? He took another deep breath and continued:

“Then we have New Londo, where the Four Kings used to reside. The city is drowned by now. They have been very close to spawn an abyss so we had to take some... extreme measures. It could be possible that we need to see an old friend of mine first before we can do anything there.

And last, there is Seath, the pale drake. Never liked him. He has long gotten mad and has been mad from the start. He is tricky though, so I guess we have to expect that he won't make it easy for us.”

Ornstein stopped and glanced at the Undead. “Did you get all of this?”

“I... I guess.”, the Undead said and Ornstein saw him scrawl notes on the paper, muttering some names and things and Ornstein was sure that he already mixed half of it up. 

“What have I gotten myself into?”, Ornstein muttered quietly to himself while observing the idiot.  
______________________________

The rest of the time it took Ornstein to fully heal passed quicker than he thought. The idiot sometimes attempted to talk to him, but Ornstein usually shut him off quickly. So most of the time he seemed to spend his time reading the books that Gwyndolin had in the tomb. Ornstein asked himself if books about moonlight magic would actually help this Undead out, judging from their battle he hasn't been the magic type, but was a bit delighted when he actually saw him picking up a history book. And there were always this glances in Ornstein's direction, that he couldn't really put anywhere. It made Ornstein feel a bit uncomfortable so he often would scold the idiot to stop this. And when Ornstein was finally allowed to get out of bed for more than bathroom breaks, it didn't got better, the staring got so far that Ornstein sometimes requested Gwyndolin to remove the Undead from the room to have some peace and quiet. Sadly, he came back every time. 

Now was the time where Gwyndolin removed the bandages for good and Ornstein could admire his new scars. Only that he didn't admired them at all, thinking about who was at fault that he had them, a large one on his chest and a few smaller ones on his legs. Only one scar he felt like he could cherish... when he raised his hand and felt the scar on the left side of his head, gently caressed it, the last gift his boyfriend had left for him. 

“It would be a good time to wash your hair now.”, Gwyndolin said, undoing the braid, letting Ornstein's curls flow down his back. “It has been some time and your hair already starts to mat.” Ornstein felt another one of these glances at him and turned his head to see the Undead staring at him, he frowned into his direction. 

“Listen, we have to move soon, but I need to get a bath and a few things from the cathedral first, so collect your strength.”

“Actually...”, the Undead murmured from his corner. “...Can I come with you? Staying put here lately has made me so uneasy, I want to move out too.”

Ornstein sighed while he picked up a tunic that Gwyndolin provided to dress himself. “Fine, but don't get in my way.”  
_______________________________

After having slipped into his armour, Ornstein said his goodbyes to Gwyndolin, thanked them for taking care of his injuries and then set off for the cathedral with the Undead in tow. The Undead sprinted straight for the elevator, but Ornstein just extended an arm and pulled him back, spear pointing to a back alley. The Undead followed him into it and Ornstein could quickly notice how in awe he was. 

“What, you didn't think you have seen all of Anor Londo?”, Ornstein said. 

“Of course not. I am more in awe how you are finding your way in this labyrinth.”, the Undead answered. 

“Which part about having lived for over a millennia didn't you get?”, Ornstein bantered and they soon were able to enter the cathedral through one of its many side doors. 

“I will need some time and the silver knights in the cathedral will attack you on sight, so you probably should wait here.”, Ornstein said, pointing to a chair, it was a lucky coincidence that the room had once been used as a waiting room.

“But how do I know that you will come back?”, the Undead asked. Well, well, that idiot seemed to get some common sense at last. 

“I give you my word that I will be helping you out in your quest and a knight of Gwyn will never betray an oath of theirs.”, Ornstein said, spear raised, trying to look as tall and impressive as possible. 

“And what if something happens to you?”, the Undead asked. 

Ornstein snorted. “What should happen to me here? There is nobody around to hurt me anymore. Granted if you don't suddenly decide to turn your blade against me.” 

“Why should I fight against you a second time when you recovered when I had all the chances back then where you had been injured?” The tone of the Undead sounded like he was offended. “Besides, I really want your help. I was just worried, what if some kind of accident happen and then there is nobody there to help you..?”

Ornstein sighed. “Fine, you can come along.” 

“Th..thanks.”, the Undead said, sounding slightly surprised. 

“Just don't get in my way and I won't do anything if the silver knights are hunting you down.”, Ornstein grumbled, ascending the stairs in the waiting room. 

“Can't you just say to them to not try to kill me?”, the Undead said, having some trouble keeping up with Ornstein's long steps. “For your information, they are simply magic filled armour and will only carry out Gwyndolin's orders and even if they would listen to me, no.”, Ornstein answered. He could hear the Undead's elite knight armour clink. It wasn't like Ornstein's armour wouldn't produce any noise, farm from it, but while his clanks were calm and adjusted, coming from having worn this armour for centuries, the idiot wasn't used to his armour at all and it made all kind of mismatched noises, which would draw any foe into their direction quickly. 

“Can you try and make a little less noise?”, Ornstein snarled at the Undead who once again winced under his words and then actually made less noise until a point Ornstein couldn't hear him at all anymore. He turned around only to see that the idiot wasn't in his tow anymore. And Ornstein had been sure he had passed at last one silver knight on his way. 

“Shit, where did that idiot ran off too?”, Ornstein growled and backtraced his steps, falling into a trot when he heard the scraping of metal on each other, like a sword banging against a shield and he found the Undead locked in a battle with the silver knight he had passed. Ornstein considered intervening into the battle. If the idiot managed to die, he would appear at the last bonfire he had sat on and it had been the one in the Dark Moon Tomb and Ornstein didn't want him to have that near to Gwyndolin without him being present. He grabbed his spear and entered a battle stance, when the Undead managed to parry the next strike of the silver knight and riposted right through their armour, the ghostly armour falling to the floor with an unholy screech, only to rise again after the magic holding it together would come back. 

“I always tried to train them to not be parried that easily.”, Ornstein said, leaning against the wall. “You have fallen behind. Don't let this happen again.”

The Undead gasped, sword covered in some icky white goo. “You were the one who wanted less noise and made me tiptoe and didn't slow down.”, he ranted. 

“Well, we weren't in this situation if you had waited down there in the first place.”, Ornstein took a deep breath. No, that idiot wasn't worth it for him to get worked up about. “Just follow me and try to not draw another silver knight's attention.”, he reluctantly said, continuing on, with the noisy steps of the Undead behind him.  
___________________________________________

They eventually made it into the quarters Ornstein had inhabited with Smough. A certain hollowness was spreading in his chest. It felt weird for him to return there and Smough not being there. Not being in the kitchen preparing their dinner, not waiting into their living room, reading a book or cleaning up, not scooping Ornstein up to carry him into bed, not tending to his herbal garden, not waiting in the bathroom for Ornstein to join them for some fun time. Ornstein thought that tears would come, but his eyes were dry. Had he cried out all his sadness already and only emptiness remained? He wondered if going hollow felt like this for the Undead. 

Speaking of the Undead, he still was with this idiot. On the way they had encountered a few other silver knights but the Undead had managed to parry and riposte them all. At least one thing he was skilled in apparently, even though Ornstein didn't exactly like this skill, cause it felt for him like he had failed in training his silver knights. Even though these silver knights weren't real, their fighting style consisted of the memory of the owner of the armour and Ornstein had trained each and every single one of them. At least the idiot had failed a few times and needed to sip from his Estus afterwards, which made Ornstein partially feel at ease. Now, the Undead was standing behind him, looking around, he clearly hadn't seen this part of the cathedral before.

“So.”, Ornstein started. “I need to get a few things and get myself ready, so you have some time for yourself. I would prefer if you would just wait here...” Ornstein pointed into the living room. “..until I am ready. There are books in there if you get bored.” 

The Undead simply nodded to him and trudged into the room. Ornstein watched him carefully until he sat down on the bench that was fluffed up with pillows. Ornstein felt a tug on his heart when he looked at the bench, how many evenings had he spent there with Smough, cuddled against his big frame while the executioner stroked his hair. He quickly detached his gaze and strode into the direction of their bedroom. 

As he closed the door behind him and turned around to take a look, it washed over Ornstein that it truly was over. That he would never see Smough again. He started shivering and knew it was coming. It had happened already shortly after Gwyndolin had saved him, when he had to face this truth the first time. Back then Gwyndolin had been there to cry with him and comfort him, but now... Ornstein was all alone. He did the few steps to the bed and collapsed on its foot, his armour clattering on the ground, while he just felt the tears streaming down his face, his breath going short, his shivering didn't want to stop. Usually Smough had been there for him, helping him getting out of the breakdown, but now Ornstein was alone. Again. Damn, he had gotten too used to having Smough around this last 100 years. Or maybe it had been 200, he had long lost count. As he sat there on the ground, shivering, crying, feeling like an absolute mess, his gaze fell onto a few items on the shelf. 

A dragon carving, a dragon shaped hairpin, a scarf with a dragon motive, a dragon shaped tea service and a potted catnip plant. Looking at them, he couldn't help but feel a smile creeping on his face, his shivering managed to stop. Their mementos. From the other knight and his master. And now, also, Smough. Thinking about him like that made Ornstein's heart drop again, but this time he managed to compose himself. 

“I just need to keep it together for a little while longer.”, Ornstein murmured to himself. That had been his mantra before Smough entered into his life, often repeating it like a charm, to help him get through it, manage to keep his composure, to not be weak but instead be the symbol the people and his knights needed. 

“Now nobody needs a symbol anymore.”, Ornstein murmured farther. “I wonder if people even would recognize me when another 1000 years passed?” 

Ornstein got up, he had wasted enough time. He didn't want to let the Undead wait too long or he could get bad ideas. Ornstein stripped himself from his armour and his clothes and fetched a bath robe as well as a few supplies to clean himself with, untied his ponytail and made his way to the public bathroom, how he still called it, even though he and Smough did had this thing for themselves for the last century. Smough had loved it to wash Ornstein's long hair, run his fingers through it and sometimes they had a bit more fun in the bathroom. Ornstein felt his face go red thinking about what the servants earlier would have thought when they had to clean up their remains, but like the silver knights, the servants had all long left and so Ornstein and Smough had been the ones to clean up their own mess, so it was their secret alone. Ornstein sighed when he entered the bathroom. He couldn't help it, but every time he saw a new place where Smough usually had been, someone tug at his heart and it felt like they tried to rip it out of him. So Ornstein wasn't surprised when he felt new tears streaming down his face when he washed his hair, or maybe it was just the water from the bathroom? He didn't know. He also didn't want to think about it. 

After his bath he returned to their room and prepared a travel bag. In went mostly clothes and some stuff that could be useful, like dressing material, needle and a thread (Smough had showed him how to sew), he also put some of his art utensils into it, even though he had the feeling he wouldn't be able to get to this hobby at all. The last thing he needed were provisions, so Ornstein took his travel bag and went to the kitchen with it. 

Ornstein thought he had already cried enough this day, but entering the kitchen hit him very hard. How often had he entered the kitchen, drawn inside by the delicious smell of Smough's meal? How often had he sat down at the table waiting for Smough to finishing cooking, just enjoying to watch the large frame of his boyfriend over an activity he enjoyed so much? How often had Smough tried to teach him to cook, with mixed results? And now, standing in the door frame of the kitchen, only clothed with a bath robe, it hit Ornstein. He would never eat Smough's meals again. He was gone, forever and he knew he eventually had to face it, but for now he didn't want to. Ornstein wanted to allow himself a moment of weakness, because Smough had showed him that he didn't need to be strong all the time, so he fell on his knees, crying it all out, the tears not only streaming down his face but also dripping heavy on the floor. How long he stayed like that? Ornstein didn't knew, but eventually he got up onto his feet. He always got up again. He took a deep breath, wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve and started to pack as much provisions as he could carry. 

After Ornstein was done with packing, he got dressed, put his hair back into a ponytail and slipped back into his armour, but didn't put the helmet on this time. He needed to make one last trip, to the giant blacksmith, his armour needed some repairs. He put one last glance at the shelf and made a mental note to tell Gwyndolin to take care of Smough's herbal garden before they departed. Then, he went over and swooped the hair pin, the figurine and the scarf into his luggage. He would have loved to take the tea service too, but it honestly wouldn't fit anymore. Maybe he should just take one piece? He decided to take a cup with him. And last, he snipped off a leaf of the catnip plant and put it in a small book to dry which he packed too. With his travel bag in one hand and his helmet carried under his other arm, he made his way back to the living room, where he saw the Undead standing at the table, his gaze on a few pieces of paper that were spread out on it. Ornstein nearly dropped his helmet when he saw what it was. 

“Can't you sit still for one hour? What are you doing?”, he snarled, walking over to the table. “I haven't allowed you to look at these.”

“Wait, you said to me to wait in here, you didn't say that I couldn't take a look around.”, the Undead quickly countered, taking a defensive stance. Ornstein noticed that he had pointed his spear at the Undead and lowered it. 

“This is... deeply personal and I don't want anyone to look at them.”, Ornstein hissed through gritted teeth. 

“Fine, fine, I have seen nothing.”, the Undead said, but Ornstein heard him mutter “You have cared deeply about him, huh?” He got quiet after Ornstein glared at him. 

“I am almost ready, I just need to get to the giant blacksmith for some armour repairs and then have to go back to Gwyndolin one last time before we can depart.”, Ornstein said and the unlikely duo set off.

“I never would have thought you could draw.”, the Undead suddenly said on their way. 

“What, did you think that all I did was sitting in that great hall waiting for someone to arrive?”, Ornstein scoffed. 

“No, that's not it, I just... didn't thought the famous dragon slayer would sit down at a table to make art.”, the Undead answered, head hanging a bit low. 

“Do you have any problems with it?”, Ornstein asked and the Undead shook his head and the rest of the way they covered in silence. 

Arrived at the giant blacksmith, Ornstein stripped himself from his armour and handed it over to the giant blacksmith without saying a word, the old guy knew what he had to do. And he wasn't the talkative kind anyway, so usually Ornstein never uttered a word around him anymore. He saw the Undead sitting down on the stairs while Ornstein, tired of having been stuck in bed for so long, leaned against the wall. Ornstein watched the hammer of the giant blacksmith clink against his armour, bathing in the relaxing sound, when the Undead took up the word again.

“The room with the... dragon heads in here... Where they...?”, he started and Ornstein immediately knew what he was implying.

“Yes.”, he confirmed. “The dragons I hunted.” 

Ornstein wouldn't had been surprised if the Undead's eyes would have gone wide under his helmet, but with the visor down he couldn't see them. He thought about this brief moment when he had seen him without helmet, damn, he had blue eyes, just like Smough, why did he had to notice this now? Ornstein got broken out of this thoughts by the Undead's voice again: “How was it... Hunting dragons, I mean?”

Ornstein sighed. The Undead hopefully didn't expect from him to tell him the whole story about the dragon war, it went on long enough and was written down in every history book. “I don't want to talk about this.”, Ornstein answered. “But, as we are still stuck here a bit, let me tell you about the variants of dragons we fought. You probably noticed that there have been dragon heads of all colours and sizes.” The Undead nodded. 

“There have been different kinds of dragon we hunted. The everlasting stone dragons where the ones who were immortal when their scales weren't removed. It was Seath who told us the secret, that lightning could cut their scales down and made us able to kill them. I am pretty sure we haven't left a single one of them alive.” Ornstein sighed. “Back then it felt like the right decision, but after a thousand years I ask myself if it really was the right thing to do.” Huh, strange, why did Ornstein feel to reveal this personal detail to the Undead? He felt his face flush red.

“F-forget what I just said.”, he said, averting his gaze and staring at the giant blacksmith again, trying to get mesmerized by the hammer clinking. 

“And the other dragons...?”, the voice of the Undead carried over to him. 

“...There were the ancient dragons, they didn't had stone scales but weren't less terrifying. The last one of them fell a few centuries ago in Oolacile.”, Ornstein said in a soundlessly voice. 

“And then there are the drakes and wyvern, which you probably have encountered here. Descendants of the everlasting and ancient dragons, but their power is nothing compared to them. They can only be described as inferior.”, Ornstein finished at the same moment the giant blacksmith finished hammering. 

“Seems like my armour is ready.”, Ornstein said and turned his attention to the giant blacksmith, received his armour and bowed to him in thanks before putting it on. When he waved to the Undead to follow him, he shot up and trotted behind him, waving to the giant blacksmith and saying a thing like “Farewell and thank you for your service.” and Ornstein swore he heard the giant blacksmith mutter the word “Friend.”

“Our first target should be Seath, the archives are the closest from here.”, Ornstein said. “Stay close to me, don't stray away and do everything I tell you, understood?” The Undead simply nodded. “Excellent, but first I need to head over to Gwyndolin quick.”, he said and both of them stepped out of the cathedral. 

When they were far enough away, Ornstein turned around, to gaze at it in its full glory, the shimmering sunlight glimmering on it and felt a tug at his heart another time. How many years had he stayed there, waiting for the inevitable? It felt strange for him to leave it behind, but for now, all he could do was going on. He detached his gaze and strode with large steps towards their destination. 

After they had visited Gwyndolin and Ornstein had asked them to take care of Smough's herbal garden and the catnip plant, which Gwyndolin promised, the knight and the Undead mounted the elevator that would lead them to the platform which led to Seath's hideout. 

“We are really going to do this, huh?”, Ornstein muttered, staring at the Undead. “It feels like you brought a storm upon me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest and Ornstein arrive at the archives. Everything should go smoothly. The emphasis is on should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, I am really sorry taking SO long for this story to update. I am very glad for the interest in it and I promise, I will write it to the end. Also, we are finally getting into some action. I hope you enjoy!

After the elevator had arrived, Ornstein jumped right off, heading for the small building that they had to cross to reach the Duke's Archives, not paying any attention if the Undead was following him. 

“Hey, wait up, please!”, his voice sounded and Ornstein stopped, not without annoyance, watching the Undead running to catch up to him. 

“You are as slow as a snail.”, Ornstein complained. “Maybe you should consider getting rid of some of that armour. You clearly aren't used to wearing it.” 

“No, it is because you make two steps when I make one.”, the Undead countered. 

Ornstein huffed and turned around. “Just try to keep up.” 

Once they arrived at the small building, Ornstein stopped in front of the Smough statue and laid a hand on his heart, saying a silent prayer, trying very hard to not let new tears form in his eyes. He was – however – brutally ripped out of his prayer by the sound of a halberd connecting with armour and an Undead's face slammed into the ground. Ornstein turned around to see him fighting one of the giant sentinels, no, that wasn't the right word, the giant sentinel was mopping the floor with him. 

The Undead pulled himself up and struggled to roll out of the way from the next swing. “Um, Ornstein? How about a little help?”

Ornstein crossed his arms, watching the drama unfold. “On the way to us, you had to go through several of these guys. There is even the royal version standing right outside of the great hall. How are you able to fail so bad?” 

After Ornstein had finished his rant, the Undead had already been beaten to a pulp and desperately grabbed for his Estus. Ornstein deeply sighed, grabbed his spear and drove it through the giant sentinel which disintegrated instantly. 

The Undead sipped a few times from the Estus and got up. “By the lords, I thought I was done for.”

“Just how did you ever made it to us?”, Ornstein blurted out. 

“Um... I may have just ran past them?” The Undead grinned sheepishly at Ornstein. 

“How did I lose to you again?” Ornstein turned around and took care of the second giant sentinel, that had only had stood there and watched. He himself wasn't attacked by any creature in Anor Londo anyway, but the Undead wouldn't be able to get past them without being spotted. 

“So, let's not waste anytime anymore and go on.”, Ornstein said only to see that the Undead had ran to the chest next to the Smough statue. 

“Who even put them there?”, he murmured and impatiently tapped his foot, when the Undead went to the chest right of the statue and proceeded to open it. Something about this chest looked wrong.

“Oh no, wait, it's a mimic!”, Ornstein shouted, but it was too late, the Undead already had fallen into the trap and groaned and squealed while the sharp teeth bit down on him several times, making blood spray, Ornstein cringed while he watched the scene, but he knew that trying to pull someone out of a mimic grab was an impossible task. Once the monster had spat the idiot out, which was hopefully still alive, Ornstein took up the fight against the mimic. 

He was used to them, the cathedral seemed to attract them like cheese would attract mice. With a few graceful swings of his spear he managed to deal the killing blow. The mimic spat out the treasure it had swallowed, which fell on the floor with a clank. He picked it up, a crystal halberd.

“Huh, how fitting that this was near the Archives.”, Ornstein said to himself. In the meantime, the idiot seemed to have managed to get back on his feet. 

“So... are you actually planning to do anything or will you let me do all the work?”, Ornstein hissed and tossed the crystal halberd in his direction, which the undead struggled to catch, but he managed. 

“So this is the treasure you thought was worth to die for. They look fancy and can do quite some damage, but once they break, they cannot be repaired ever. Not a good weapon in my opinion.” Ornstein turned around again, walking with long strides towards the day. He could hear the Undead clanking up behind him. 

“Wait, how did you know it was a mimic?”, he wanted to know. 

Ornstein stopped and turned around to eye the idiot. “First, I can't believe that you wouldn't attack any chest when you can't see the difference and second, there is a subtle difference. Look at their chain and their colour. It is becoming obvious once you spot it.” 

“Sorry... I promise I won't let myself eat by another mimic.”, the Undead stared at the ground or at least it looked like it. 

“I sure hope so.”, Ornstein said and walked out of the door, where another giant sentinel blocked the way to the archives. He sighed. 

“I hope you actually do some fighting once we are in the archives.”, he murmured and readied his spear to get rid of the giant sentinel. The Undead just stood there when it dissolved into souls. 

“Sorry...”, the Undead murmured once again. His defeated tone almost made Ornstein feel bad. This guy clearly wasn't a fighter. That he even managed to make it that far could be counted as a miracle. It probably was the greatest of luck an idiot like him could ever imagine to have. 

The both of them walked in silence next to each other (Ornstein actually slowed down his steps a bit for the Undead) until they arrived at the long, narrow hallways, that lead to the archives. 

“I haven't been here in a while, this place had been locked off for quite some while now.”, Ornstein explained. “One day suddenly a fog gate appeared and we recognized it as Lord Gwyn's, even though he had long left when it appeared. He probably had it set up to activate once a certain event happened.” 

“So why is it gone now?” 

“Because you placed the lord vessel. I guess this toothy serpent has told you all about it?” 

“He only told me that I need to collect four powerful souls.” 

“Well, Seath is one of them and he is in the archives behind this hallway, so let's go.” 

The Undead nodded and followed Ornstein inside, staying closely behind him, as if he wanted to use the big body of the dragon slayer as a shield. 

“How about you go ahead?”, Ornstein said and swiftly changed places with him, so quick that the Undead couldn't even complain. 

“Fine...”, he just said and clutched shield and katana in both of his hands, carefully crossing a corner and then running back right away. 

“Oh no, it's one of them.”, he murmured. 

“What are you talking about?”, Ornstein asked and took a peak around the corner as well, spotting an armoured boar. “Oh, these are new. Seath didn't guard this hallways earlier.”

“So what shall we do?”, the Undead whispered as if the boar would charge at them any given moment. 

“Fight, of course.”, Ornstein answered. He didn't even need to think twice about this. “So how about you show me that you actually are able to fight?”, Ornstein mocked. The Undead turned around with a “Hmph” and Ornstein saw him readying a pyromancy flame. 

“Oh, you got yourself some pyromancy? Not a bad move.”, he commented, leaning against the wall. “I just wonder why you didn't use it in your fight against us.” 

“You guys are dragon slayers, what would fire have done to you?”, the Undead replied in a tone as if he couldn't even believe this question. Ornstein didn't answer. It was true that their armour had some more fire defense, but if the Undead had used pyromancy right away, he could have probably prevented a few deaths. Or maybe not. Ornstein's usual reaction to fire was to answer with lightning. When the idiot really was going to use a pyromancy spell, Ornstein maybe should look somewhere else. 

The next thing Ornstein saw, was that the Undead got tossed at the nearest wall. Judging from gazing at the armoured boar and the sound he had heard before the Undead flew through the air, at least one spell made it through. The Undead stood up, grabbed his weapon and charged at the boar, which quickly made him connect with the ground again. 

“You don't attack them from the front, but from behind.”, Ornstein broke his silence and leaped over the boar to drive his spear into that one particular unarmoured part of the boar. 

“There isn't enough room for me to go around it.”, the Undead shouted and muttered a “Brutal...”, when he saw Ornstein's attack. 

“Just jump over it!”, Ornstein called out to him, not minding that his spear stuck deep in the rear of the boar. 

“You don't really think I am able to do this wearing several pounds of plate armour?”

“Then don't wear several pounds of plate armour!”

“You really think I am able to jump like you AT ALL?” 

“Fine, then not.”, Ornstein pulled his spear out of the boar which had squeaked in agonized pain over their whole conversation. “Just finish it off.” 

The Undead nodded and hurled a fireball at it, making the boar collapse to the ground. He took another sip of his Estus and stared at the tiny rest still into it. “I hope the next bonfire comes soon...”, he complained. 

“We have been on our way for 20 minutes now and you already have used up all your Estus...”, Ornstein shook his head in disdain. He took up the lead again and when he rounded the next corner... “You won't like this, there is another one of them...” He could hear how the idiot groaned loudly. 

“Alright, I have to admit, it is quite sadistic of Seath to place them into such a narrow hallway.”, Ornstein mentioned. “I will weaken it like the first one, then you finish it off.” 

The Undead nodded and one spear strike and one fireball later the boar was also taken care off. 

“I don't get how you can stab into their butt with a straight face.”, the Undead murmured. 

“Who said I have a straight face doing it?”, Ornstein teased, making the Undead cover his helmet, probably in shame of having being heard. But when Ornstein was honest to himself, he had seen some messed up stuff in his life, stabbing some boar into the rear wasn't the icing on the cake. He stared at this spear though, which was riddled with blood now and maybe... other things, he should clean it soon.

The hallway ended and they arrived in a large room and the Undead sighed in relief when he saw the bonfire, rushing over to it, to fill his Estus. Ornstein used this opportunity to get out a cloth and clean the tip of his spear of any blood or other bodily fluids. 

After he was done, he walked over to the Undead, who just stared into the bonfire. “Well, can we go?”

The Undead moved with a start. “Sorry, just had to brace myself.” He got up and took a look around. “So these are the archives? I was expecting more books.”

“We aren't at the library part now, idiot.” Ornstein pointed at a platform in front of them. “We first have to take the elevator up.” Ornstein walked over, pulled the lever and the elevator came down with a rattling noise. He walked on it and saw how the Undead followed. 

“So, when we are up there.”, Ornstein said after pulling the lever to get the elevator moving. “We have to expect do deal with Seath's experiment and nobody can say if there are traps. Follow my lead and don't storm forward, understood?” 

The Undead nodded, clutching his katana and shield. A knight's shield, Ornstein recognized. A pretty standard, but decent one. Ornstein always had preferred to not use shields, even as a silver knight. He of course knew how to use them, but against dragons they just felt like extra weight, so his fighting style was based entirely around being shieldless. 

When the elevator stopped with a loud clang, Ornstein headed forwards and hid behind the wall, peaking in the next room. He saw how the Undead imitated him at the other wall, only that he peaked a bit too much forward and had to withdrew his head when an arrow zoomed right next to his head. 

“And we have been spotted... great.”, Ornstein sighed and readied his spear, seeing how the Undead ducked, muttering “How are you even able to see anything?” 

“I manage and now prepare yourself, because that aren't our standard hollows.”, Ornstein charged forward and drove his spear into the first target or he would have liked to do it, but instead it clanked against the solid crystal. The Undead followed and apparently wanted to slice the hollow, but faced the same problem. 

“Damn, normally they aren't that hard.”, he said and began another attack, as well as Ornstein and together they managed to go beneath the crystal and soon the crystallized hollow laid lifeless on the ground, but it had been only one of them. The battle noises had attracted a few more of them along with the sniper that continued to shot arrows in their direction. 

“From all the things Seath had to experiment with, it had to be twinkling titanite.”, Ornstein growled. 

“Is this bad?”, the Undead asked, struggling to fight his current foe and evading the arrows. With another sigh, Ornstein kicked his current target down and prepared a lightning bolt to get rid of the sniper. 

“Bladed weapons have a hard time cracking through it.”, Ornstein explained while he stabbed the crystal hollow that already had gotten up from the kick. “Something like a mace would probably be more suited, but that isn't a type of weapon I am experienced with.” 

Without the sniper, the Undead had managed to eventually cut his foe down. “I may have something like a mace with me, but I don't have any titanite with me to reinforce it.”, he said. 

“Then stay with your blade, it will still be more useful then a non reinforced weapon.” Ornstein had managed to take all the foes down who had been charging at him. Which had almost been the entire room. He could probably consider himself lucky that the Undead had at least managed to strike one of the crystal hollows down. 

“Have this been all or are there more?”, the Undead asked and suddenly stormed the stairs up, running right into a crystal golem standing there. 

“Are you nuts?”, Ornstein shouted and leaped over to the Undead, who had already gotten hit by an uppercut. Great, crystal golems. Their skin was far too hard for Ornstein's spear to do much damage, so it was just him chipping away at the creature until it dissolved into dust. When he was done, he turned around and saw the Undead standing behind him, his weapon in both hands, staring awkwardly as if he had wanted to help but had been missing the guts. 

“I told you to not storm off.”, Ornstein growled. 

“I just wanted to be useful...”, the Undead replied. “Huh? I think that golem left something.” And with that words the Undead had already ran past Ornstein and picked the item up. 

“What is this? Some kind of broken pendant?”, the Undead stared at the trinket, seemingly trying to make sense of it. Ornstein came closer to take a look. 

“I have the feeling I have seen this trinket somewhere before.”, he murmured but then his expression darkened, of course not to be seen under his helmet, but his voice turned into a dangerous tone. “And that was the second time you stormed off.” 

“Relax, there haven't been any foes anymore.”, the Undead said in a far too casual tone. 

“This item could have been a trap. Do I have to remind who was eaten by a mimic earlier?”

Ornstein didn't await an answer and twirled around to peak in the next room. This was where the archives really started. Loads of books were aligned on shelves, they were stacked on the floor or on tables and there were all kind of constructs and other stuff Ornstein didn't had any clue what it was or why Seath needed it. This wasn't the important thing however.

The important thing was, that in this room he could spot a good number of crystal hollows already and that wasn't counting the ones who could hide. He scanned the room once more and spotted one of Seath's channelers on the stairs. The stairs that led to an elevator that they needed to use to get into Seath's study room. 

“Alright, this time we are going into this more calmly.”, Ornstein whispered to the Undead. 

“What? You have to talk louder!”, the Undead shouted from the other side of the wall where Ornstein had peaked into the room. Ornstein winced. He thoroughly hoped that channeler hadn't heard them. 

Ornstein hold a finger in front of the lion mouth of his helmet to indicate silence, whispering “Shhh, not so loud.”, but realized that his whispering probably was prompting the Undead to shout again and instead gestured for him to come over to him which he did.

“Why are you whispering when I am several meter away?”, he asked. 

“Because I thought you were standing right next to me.”, Ornstein sighed. “I want us to go into this room and not spark up a storm right away. Can you do this? Are you able to search the left area of the room and taking care of every crystal hollow that charges at you without the channeler in the middle taking note?” 

The Undead seemed to consider. “I can try...”, he said but it didn't sound very convincing.

“Are you still having estus left?”

The Undead nodded and Ornstein relaxed a bit. “Then you can take a few hits without trouble. I am going to clean out the right part. We meet behind the stairs to take care of the channeler.” 

Another nod. Ornstein gave the Undead a signal when to start only to gain a shrug of the small not-knight. Of course, he didn't had any clue how the military gesture code worked. Ornstein sighed again. They had been on this journey for less then an hour now and he couldn't wait for it to be over. Ornstein settled for another, simpler gesture, that the Undead could understand and he nodded once he got it. Then both of them were off into the room. 

Ornstein tried to make as little noise as possible, not an easy task with wearing several pounds of plate armour, but he had worn it for so long, that it was easy for him to dampen some of his noise. He fought his way through any crystal hollow daring to stand in his way and made it to the stairs to see that there was another crystal hollow hidden. Very clever of Seath to position them there. Ornstein easily dispatched them too and now had to wait for the Undead. 

Ornstein leaned lazily against the wall, listening to the battle noises. Technically he could have gone and helped the Undead with his side now, but Ornstein already was sick and tired of having to do almost all the work. The Undead had somehow managed to overcome every challenge to arrive Anor Londo and even beat him and Smough. Ornstein was beginning to assume that he was failing on purpose so that he didn't had to do any fighting anymore. 

Nonetheless, the Undead needed quite some time. Ornstein could hear the clanking of a blade on crystal, the sound of estus being sipped, souls getting sucked in by the dark sign and the sound of a soul arrow connecting with an undead. 

Wait a minute, the sound of a sould arrow connecting with an undead?

Ornstein shot out of his hiding place and in fact, the channeler had spotted the Undead and he was still busy fighting the last crystal hollow. Which still wasn't dead and so Ornstein decided to take the fight against the channeler up, stabbing them with his spear which prompted the creature to turn around and cast a teleport spell. 

“Damn.”, Ornstein muttered. “Now they can get an advantage.” He frantically looked around where the channeler would appear again and spotted more crystal hollows up the stairs, readying arrows to shoot while the channeler appeared again a bit higher up. 

“How many of these are here? I knew it was a mistake to let Seath guard the Undead after the Oolacile mess.”, Ornstein said and threw his hands up. The Undead finally seemed to have finished his battle and stepped next to Ornstein only to panic roll away, Ornstein noticed how awkward it looked in that armour he was wearing, when two arrows and one soul arrow were aimed at his direction. Ornstein leapt out of the way too and yanked the Undead behind the nearest shelf. 

“What have you done?”, he hissed. “We wanted to meet behind the stairs to take care of the channeler, not get their attention right away.” 

The Undead ducked. “I accidentally stepped in their line of sight while fighting. It wasn't on purpose. Also, you left me all alone.”

“Because I thought you could at least take care of a few crystal hollows without getting spotted.” The Undead ducked again because of Ornstein's furious whisper. 

“So what do we now? Hide and wait until they stopped firing?” The sound of magic and arrows hitting the shelf was still very present. 

“Hollows aren't smart enough for this, they won't stop to fire in the direction they have last seen us. For the channeler, I have no clue what happened to them, but they seem to be as dumb as the hollows now.”, Ornstein explained. He took a deep breath. “Listen, I am fast enough to take care of the channeler up on the stairs but you have to take care of the snipers before they have a chance to shoot me. I am not immune to arrows either.” 

“You surely are able to take a few hits?”, the Undead whispered back. 

“I am, but for your reminder, estus doesn't work on me and I have recently been badly injured. By you.”, Ornstein countered. “It is in our all interest that I don't get hit by a mess that you brought us into, got it?” Ornstein crossed his arms and stared anywhere but into the direction of the Undead. 

“Fine, I'll do it.”, the Undead said. 

“Ready, I am counting to three. One, two, thr....” And the Undead stormed off to early. “Idiot, not now.”, Ornstein shouted and leapt out of his hiding place, ran over to the stairs and to the position of the channeler. Luckily, his first hit had already weakened the channeler enough that his second hit made short work of them. And he hadn't even gotten hit by an arrow, so at least this had worked out. 

When Ornstein turned around, he saw instead that the Undead had a few arrows stuck in him but the snipers were dead to his feet and he took another sip from his Estus. 

“Shouldn't you pull them out first?”, Ornstein asked and pointed at the arrows. 

“Oh, don't worry, they normally fall off once the wounds are closing.”, the Undead reassured Ornstein and in fact, they just fell onto the floor.

“Impressive.”, Ornstein said. “And of course I don't have to give you a rundown about what went wrong here in this room, right?” 

The Undead backed away. “I have been the first time here. I admit, things haven't gone smoothly, but I have tried my best.” 

“With your best you mean charging far too early and even though I have told you to wait for my command, little storm?”, Ornstein said disparagingly. 

“Actually, it's Tempest.”

“Huh?”

“My name, it's Tempest, not Storm.” 

“That is basically the same thing. And would you do me a favour and stop acting like one?” Ornstein pointed to the elevator. “At least we are ready to take it now, I don't see any more hollows or channelers. And this time stay behind me.” The last few words he hissed between gritted teeth. 

They rode the elevator in silence. Once they were up, Ornstein stepped forward. “Follow me, little storm.” 

“I told you it's Tempest.”

“Don't care.”

Ornstein followed the way to another staircase, that was so overgrown with crystals, it very much indicated that Seath's study room was near. The only foe in their way was another crystal hollow, but apparently a stronger version. However, because it was only one foe, the two of them managed to kill it quickly and soon they stood in front of the fog gate. 

“Alright, Seath is a tricky one. He experimented with immortality and there is no guarantee that this isn't a trap. So our next step should be well considered...” Before Ornstein could continue his thoughts he heard the sound of someone having stepped through the fog gate, the chinking of crystals from a dragon's breath and the sound of an Undead dissolving into ash. 

“Oh, this IDIOT!”, Ornstein shouted out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the pendant, Tempest actually hasn't spoken with Dusk yet. Normally it only appears when Dusk has been talked to, but I want to keep the flow of the story and it wouldn't make sense for my protagonists to return to the archives after being done there, so the pendant dropped right away. I am allowing myself to take some artistic liberties simply for a smoother story. Thanks for understanding ^^


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest and Ornstein managed to get separated. Will they be fine on their own? And will Tempest escape the fury of the dragon slayer unscathed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in the last chapter, I am taking some liberties with the game mechanics to create a better flow for the story. So I will base this story on the general premise of the gameplay in Dark Souls but also weave in my own headcanons and blend out what I think are merely game mechanics.
> 
> This one was planned since the start of the fic. Felt good to finally be able to write it out ^^

When Tempest opened his eyes he suspected Ornstein shouting at him, the small Undead already winced in antipication when he noticed that there wasn't a dragon slayer shouting at him and that he had awoken next to a unknown bonfire. 

Tempest got up from the ground and took a look around. He was in a cell. He had no clue how this dragon had done it, but apparently he had managed to snatch his body away before the dark sign had transported him to the last bonfire he had rested at. But that also meant... Tempest was on his own. He couldn't rely on the dragon slayer to get him out of here. He didn't even knew if it would be possible for Ornstein to come to this cell. 

What a good thing, that a bonfire was right next to him. With the power of the lord vessel, it should be possible for him to just escape this place. Tempest sat down next to the bonfire and put his hand into it, concentrating on the place he wanted to appear. Anor Londo felt good. If he was lucky, Ornstein would still be around and they could try again. 

After around five minutes had passed, Tempest withdrew his hand from the flame. It didn't work. The bonfire didn't respond to the power of the lord vessel. He should have known it. What use would a cell with a bonfire in it would have if the one imprisoned could just teleport away? 

Tempest stood up again, pacing a few times up and down in the cell, when he noticed that it even got a bit farther into the wall where the bars had ended. Curiously he wandered there only to run into another crystal hollow, which attacked on sight. Tempest rose his shield just in time to block their attack before slashing away at them with his katana. Damn, why did they had to be so hard? He could even see the colours of the rainbow whenever he managed to splinter away some of that twinkling titanite. When the crystal hollow laid lifeless on the ground, Tempest returned to the front of the cell and examined the door. 

It was locked of course. And there was no chance that he would be able to slice this bars in half with his katana or any other weapon he had with him. That was when he noticed the serpent man leaning against the bars. From the sounds of its breathing, fast asleep. And Tempest eyes darted down to its hip ... where there was a keyring. Maybe the key to the cell was there?

Tempest took a step back and considered. Should he just try and snatch the keyring? It looked pretty fast attached to the belt of the serpent men. It could take him quite some time, to remove it, so it would be far safer to take this advantage and kill the serpent man so Tempest could take the key he needed (if it even was there) without fearing for the foe to wake up. The little Undead snuck up to the serpent man, readied his katana and drove it deep into its back. The serpent man woke up and shrieked in pain. Tempest tugged on his katana to remove it from the back of his foe. Blood spurted out and Tempest was sure that the blood loss soon should kill the serpent man, when it suddenly staggered a few steps forward and collapsed. To far away from the door for Tempest to reach the keyring anymore. 

“Oh no! What am I going to do now?”, Tempest blurted out while disbelief darkened his hollowed out face. 

***

After the idiot had ran through the fog gate and apparently died at Seath's hands, Ornstein had returned to the bonfire, thinking it would be the best to just wait until he reappeared. Only that it didn't happen. After enough time had passed that Ornstein had decided to have a snack, he was under the assumption that Seath somehow had managed to transport the body of the Undead before he had a chance to reappear at the bonfire. 

Ornstein swallowed the last bite, took a sip of water out of his flask and then stood up. He better started to search for the idiot before he hollowed out. “Oh, he is in trouble.”, Ornstein murmured to himself, picking up his spear and pulling the lever to get the elevator going. 

To his disdain all the crystal hollows had been revived in the meantime. Of course, they still were undead. It was impossible to kill them. Most hollows would eventually stop moving, having truly given up and that was the closest to death an undead or hollow ever would manage. Only when they left behind their soul could they find real peace, but that wouldn't happen in a few hours, but needed several decades. Ornstein sighed. He had to fight his way through this place again. At least the channeler from earlier still laid there as a lifeless corpse. 

Ornstein scanned the room. With his speed it should be easy for him to make a beeline for the stairs and take care of the snipers first before the others caught up to him and then he could use the lighting powers of his spears to stun them before taking them done one by one. The absence of the channeler truly made this a lot easier. 

He kneeled down, spear in right hand and sprinted forwards, zigzagging when the arrows took aim at him and once he arrived at the stairs, managed to strike both of the snipers down there with one thrust before leaping to the one on the left stairs and then turning around to shoot the activated lighting powers of his spear in the group of crystal hollows that had followed him before taking them on one at a time. 

At the end Ornstein remained victorious, even though he was sure he had suffered some cuts and bruises. Taking on about ten foes at once maybe had been a bit much after all. He should be more careful for now. He walked over and pulled the lever that called the elevator, supporting his weight on his spear while he waited. When the elevator arrived and Ornstein stepped on it, pulling the lever to get it going up, he took his time to look around and remind himself just how big the archives were. 

“Where have been the cells again?”, Ornstein asked himself. “Or maybe that little storm still is in the study room? No, I have heard him die. He must have been brought to a bonfire...”

After Ornstein had arrived at the top, he took care of the lone crystal hollow guarding the path to Seath's study room and proceeded his way to the fog gate. He stood in front of it, listening. Ornstein was sure, he could hear the breathing of the paledrake through it. It would be better not to enter through the fog gate. On one hand, he wasn't keen talking with Seath, on the other hand he didn't knew if the dragon would attack him on sight. Seath had gone mad over the years and Ornstein assumed it had only gotten worse over the course of his isolation. So the dragon slayer decided to head back to the elevator. 

Ornstein got the elevator going and braced himself. The moment he saw another part of the archives in front of him he jumped off, rolled to dampen his fall and got up, looking around. Now he had to find his way through this labyrinth. With a deep sigh, Ornstein got on his way, weapon in both hands, determined to find this idiot and give him the scolding he deserved. 

***

Tempest had tried to reach the corpse of the serpent man several times now and even managed to dislocate his shoulder trying it. At last the bonfire was near, so he could heal any wounds quickly, but that didn't made it hurt less. He probably looked like a complete idiot, lying flat on his stomach, face pressed to the bars and trying to reach the corpse of the serpent man with his arm. 

“Alright, this will never work.”, Tempest stood up from his awkward position and then let himself fall down on his rear with a clank. “I wonder how Ornstein would have handled this situation?” Tempest had the image of the dragon slayer clear in his mind in front of him, the lion armour, the long red ponytail and the iconic dragon slayer spear. 

The spear... a spear had long reach! Tempest quickly ran to the bonfire to search through the items in his bottomless box. And he was in luck, because he found a spear in it. A short one, pretty sure that he had picked it up from one of the hollow soldiers in the undead burg. But it was long enough and should suffice. 

So Tempest kneeled in front of the bars and carefully guided the spear to the corpse of the serpent men, trying to get a hold of it with the tip of the spear. It took him a few times and once he even managed to kick the corpse farther away so that he had to lay down on his stomach again but eventually the spear managed to get a hold of the corpse and Tempest was able to pull it near him. 

“Finally.”, he breathed out. Tempest was actually a bit unsure why he still needed to breath, maybe it was just a leftover from his living days and he couldn't get rid of the habit. Regardless, he finally had the desired item in reach and so he quickly worked to cut the keyring off the serpent man with a dagger, hoping that one of the keys would actually fit his cell door. And Tempest was in luck because the key he tried clicked and the door swung open. 

“Yes.”, Tempest called out victorious. “Now I have to find my way back to Ornstein...” 

Tempest stepped out of the cell, rounded a corner and found himself in a large, round room, books were aligned at the walls everywhere, stacks over stacks of books. Tempest had to admit, the sight was breath taking. “So these are the archives.”, he exclaimed and took a moment to just take in the sight. 

The moment of calm soon ceased though, because a most horrible sound started to play, making Tempest cringe. The sound apparently came from a huge gramophone in the middle of the room. Tempest felt like it would be the best to go and switch it off, because that sound didn't deserve the term “music”. He started to set one foot in front of the other when he saw several serpent man running at him. Quickly raising his weapon, preparing for a fight, the serpent man instead ran past him and climbed up a ladder Tempest hadn't noticed yet. He stared at them with raised brows for a while and once he had decided that he liked them up there and now could go turning of the gramophone without trouble, he saw about 15 things slithering towards him, making Tempest retract into his cell in horror. 

Tempest stayed a few more minutes into his cell, trying to process what he just had seen. The body looked like a snake, the head looked like some kind of squid. Tempest remembered that Ornstein had spoken about Seath's experiment. Were this things experiments of his? Tempest left the cell again and hugged the wall until he could look into the round room again. The weird squid-snakes were still roaming around, but at least they were scattered now. When he didn't make too much noise, maybe they didn't see him. Or hear him. It was hard to determine how exactly this creatures would perceive their surroundings. Tempest tiptoed to one of them, but of course his armour clanked and the creature “saw” him before he could strike in surprise. Tempest decided to strike anyway, maybe a bit force would be right what would help him out of this situation and so he sliced at the creature while it withdrew it tentacle head. Just as Tempest was about to slice a second time, he could feel how the tentacles embraced him and he got lifted into a wet, gross grab. When Tempest was spit out by the creature, he quickly fumbled for his estus, taking a sip and rolled out of the way just in time before another attack could hit him. He got up and managed to got a third slice in which hurt the creature enough for it to collapse. Tempest tried to calm down his shaky body. 

He surely never wanted to be grabbed by one of these things again but there were still loads of them left on the way down to the gramophone. Tempest decided it wasn't worth it. He sneaked away and instead headed to the direction of the ladder where the serpent man had ran to. He lifted his head to see them still up there. Great, when he would climb the ladder, they surely would send him down right away. But Tempest had the feeling that he could see a door behind them. He decided that taking on two serpent man was the lesser evil. And maybe he could even get an advantage?

Tempest roamed around in his belongings until he found a longbow and some arrows. He laid an arrow on the string, bend the bow and took aim. And even though Tempest was far away from being a sniper, he actually manage to hit one of the serpent man who hissed in pain. But it didn't collapse. Instead, it came down the ladder. Tempest cast his bow aside in an instant and drew his katana instead, brandishing it once the serpent man had reached the ground. Tempest seemed to be in luck, because the serpent man had been so surprised by his random movements, that he had managed to cut it down cleanly. The other serpent men, who still was up on the platform, seemed to consider coming down and then decided to just walk towards the door, leaving its back exposed. That was perfect for Tempest. He climbed up the ladder and managed to take the serpent man down with a clean back stab. And the best thing was, up here Tempest was save from the squid-snake-things. And he could open the door and leave this place now, this creepy gramophone got on his nerves. He leaned against the door to open it only to realize that it wouldn't bulk. 

Of course the door had to be locked! 

“Well, shit!”, Tempest blurted out, falling on his rear once again. He had escaped his cell only to be locked into a room now. Tempest just leaned against the door, sulking. 

***

Saying that Ornstein was pissed would be an understatement. The dragon slayer was FURIOUS. Navigating the archives had been a nightmare so far. Everything looked the same. The staircases could be rotated and then let to a completely new gallery. And the worst thing was, this place was practically riddled with crystal hollows, especially snipers and two of Seath's channelers also were there. 

Ornstein didn't knew how long he had tried to navigate this place by now, but he knew that he had gained a new set of bruises, cuts and among them a few spell burns from the channeler's soul arrows. His armour prevented most lethal injuries at last, but that wasn't true for spells who easily would knock him down. At last the channelers didn't use the most strong spell out there. Ornstein was able to take quite a few hits. 

But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. More than often Ornstein had abandoned the way he had pursued to chase after a crystallized hollow who once again would have managed to shot an arrow at him when he just had tried to climb up. Because this place was such a maze, Ornstein had decided to just climb over the book shelves or from gallery to gallery, whichever way was the most suitable, but that also exposed him to arrows, making him bleeding from quite a few wounds.

Now Ornstein was pretty sure that he had laid waste to pretty much every crystal hollow in the archives now. One of the channelers laid dead in a corner, the other one somewhere into hiding, probably not keen about getting a shock from Ornstein's dragon slayer spear again. What Ornstein hadn't found, however, where the prison cells or the Undead. Ornstein was sure he had searched through every nook of the archives thrice times already. When he hadn't spent his time being lost. It was something, not many knew, but... when Ornstein didn't knew the area very well like Anor Londo or the cathedral for example, he was prone to get lost. The face of the dragon slayer turned to a tint of red when he thought about his young silver knight self getting hopelessly lost in the cathedral. 

Just as Ornstein was reminiscent about embarrassing silver knight stories, he passed the balcony again. Ornstein stopped dead in his tracks and walked a few steps backward, leaning on the wall to look outside. He hadn't even considered walking onto the balcony, because why would Seath have prison cells outside, but that only meant he had overlooked the very obvious path to the higher towers of the archives. 

“Damnit, Seath.”, Ornstein shouted out, his gauntlet connecting with his lion helmet in an attempt to grab his own idiocy. Of course the paledrake would have the prison cells at the most high up place in the archives. He should have known it. Ornstein quickly started to follow the path, taking care of some more crystal hollows on his way. 

Soon, Ornstein stood in front of a large door. He extended his hand to open it and...

***

“Alright, enough sulking around now.”, Tempest jumped up with newfound determination in his chest. He surely would be able to find a key to this door somewhere in this room. They had be able to leave and come into this room somehow and Tempest doubted that the paledrake just locked his subordinates into the room. Or at least he hoped so. 

Tempest eyed the strange squid-snake-thing still patrolling the pathway and got an idea. They looked like they wouldn't take kindly to get their skin dried out. And Tempest had a bit of pyromancy at his hands. Not much, he had to admit. But it could help him deal with some of them a little faster. Just as Tempest readied the pyromancy flame, he heard a kick against the door and an angry rant.

“Damn, of course it is locked! Why would I have expected anything other from Seath? He always has been a pain in the ass with everything he did. Literally!” 

That, very clearly, was the voice of Ornstein. Even though Tempest barely could belief that this specific words had come out of the mouth of the dragon slayer in this order. Flabbergasted, Tempest opened his own mouth to speak: “Ornstein?” 

There was a long silence at the other side of the door before the dragon slayer spoke again. “At least I found you.”, he said in a very calm voice and then continued in a voice dripping with reproachful energy. “You hopefully know that you are in trouble.” 

Tempest physically winced. “So, from what I have heard, you don't have a key either. I just wanted to go and search for one.”, he shouted through the door. 

“No thanks, if I let you search for the key I am stuck here for several more hours, idiot.”, Ornstein replied. “I am just gonna destroy the door.” 

“You, WHAT?!”, Tempest exclaimed, looking at the small platform he was on, panic rose in his chest when he heard the buzzing sound of lightning and he small Undead quickly jumped down and held on the ladder when the door burst into splinters. Tempest looked up to see the figure of the dragon slayer striding through the door, casually brushing off dust of his armour. 

“There you are, IDIOT!”, the dragon slayer shouted the last word and then grabbed Tempest's wrist, pulling him ruggedly up on the platform. “Did you know what I had to go through to come here? Only because you couldn't listen to simple orders?” 

Tempest opened his mouth to say something in his defense, but was silenced when Ornstein just started to walk with him in tow, his metal armour clanking on the marble plates of the archive. 

“Wait, ouch, where are we going?”, Tempest asked and continued to plead to walk on his own and not being dragged anymore the whole way. Only when they had arrived back at Anor Londo (and Tempest had the assumption that the dragon slayer had took a wrong turn at least three times), Ornstein finally released Tempest by throwing him harshly on the ground. 

“Having lost to you must been the biggest disgrace of my life.”, the dragon slayer started. “You rush forward without thinking, you barely know how to fight, you rely on your healing potion far too much and you aren't even able to listen to simple commands.” 

Tempest shrunk down under the harsh words of the dragon slayer, deep inside him knowing that every single one was true. Tempest totally expected for Ornstein to just leave him here to finally hollow out. 

What he didn't expect where the following words.

“I am going to train you!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein gives Tempest a bath. The training begins. Tempest questions the cooking skills of the dragon slayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, time for some fluff ^^ I want to get them into friends and lovers eventually, so we have to start somewhere, no?

“Train me?”, Tempest stood up, still trying to process what his ears had just heard. 

“I have spoken clearly the first time. You definitely need to be shaped into a warrior.”, Ornstein surveyed Tempest and added in a snarky tone: “I would like to shape you into a knight, but I feel that is beyond hope.”

“So, um, what do you want me to do?”, Tempest asked. 

“First, it is time to get this armour off you.”, Ornstein came nearer and started undressing Tempest, who lowly squeaked in protest. Once every piece of armour had been clattered to the ground, Ornstein, who had grabbed Tempest wrist into his own gauntlet, stared at him aghast. 

“Right, I forgot that this happens to you when you die. Please reverse this.”, he said, averting his gaze. 

“Um, fine.”, Tempest left briefly to reverse his hollowing at the nearby bonfire, the firekeeper staring at him, after all, he only was clothed with a loin cloth now, before returning to Ornstein, starting to freeze a bit, being underdressed like this. While a lot of his senses turned off because he was undead, his blood still was flowing, hollowed out or not and naturally his body tried to stay warm. 

When Tempest returned to Ornstein, the dragon slayer stared at him. “By the lord, I thought you had the decency to get properly dressed, why are you running around half naked?!”

“Um...”, Tempest started. He wasn't even sure why he hadn't put any clothes on. He had worn this armour for so long that it didn't even occur to him. “I thought it was part of the training.”, he finally brought out. Ornstein however, still stared at him.

“Ugh, I thought it was your hollowed out form that was reeking so much, but apparently your last bath has been ages ago. Look at all this dirt.”, he scolded while gesturing with both hands to Tempest body, which certainly was covered in quite a bit dirt. “I certainly won't train you, when you stink up the air like that. It is time for you to take a bath.”

Before Tempest could protest, the dragon slayer had picked him up with one hand and just slumped him over his shoulder, heading for the cathedral. While being carried like this, Tempest noticed that Ornstein seemed to limp a tiny little bit. Guilt washed over Tempest. Ornstein probably had gotten injured when he had been searching for him in the archives. 

Once Ornstein had entered the cathedral, he headed straight for the part that Tempest didn't even had noticed when first having entered the marvelous building. At least this time he didn't had to be afraid of any silver knights. Tempest admired a bit how Ornstein was able to find his way in this big cathedral so easily when he remembered how often the dragon slayer had took wrong turns in the archives. Well, Ornstein had lived here for a millenia, of course he would know his way around here. 

In front of a particular room, Ornstein finally put Tempest down. 

“Wait here.”, he said and then undid his armour. Wait wait wait... did Ornstein intend to go into the bath with him? Tempest assumption only seemed to verify when the dragon slayer also attempted to undo the shirt he wore and neatly folded and laid it into a shelf near the door to the room. Tempest already braced himself for the dragon slayer to let fall his trousers, but he simply picked Tempest back again, entered the room and the next thing Tempest knew was that he had been thrown into hot water. 

He emerged from the water, coughing and spitting it out where it had entered his lungs. Looking down at him, Tempest realized that he didn't wore his loin cloth anymore. Staring at the side of the big pool, where Ornstein stood, he could see that the dragon slayer casually threw it on the ground. 

“That was a bit far.”, Ornstein called over to him. “Come back.”

Shrugging, Tempest came back to the side where Ornstein was kneeling. He actually had to swim there, the water felt quite deep for him. He figured, it was because the bath had been made for the likes of Ornstein, who naturally were a lot taller than humans. As soon as he was at Ornstein's side, he asked: “So, to actually clean myself, I need a washing cloth and soap.”, Tempest said. The dragon slayer didn't say anything. Instead, Ornstein himself drew out the desired items and started to rub Tempest himself. 

“Look at this dirt. Just how long has it been since you cleaned yourself?”, Ornstein asked with a wrinkled nose. 

“I don't think I had any bath since I left the Undead Asylum.”, Tempest answered truthfully. 

“Gross. You have been to _Blighttown!”_ , Ornstein practically shouted the last word while continuing to scrub the dirt away from him. Tempest in fact noticed a few cuts, bruises and what seemed to be freshly clotted bleeds on the dragon slayer's bare chest along a myriad of old scars, mostly burns. His chest tightened when he laid his eyes on a particular big scar across his chest, the one that had struck the dragon slayer down. Ornstein suddenly stopped scrubbing and said: “Stop staring.” 

Tempest quickly avoided his gaze and being completely at the mercy of the dragon slayer, didn't dare to say another word, until Ornstein handed a fresh washing cloth to him. “Do your private parts yourself.”, he said and sat down, closely watching Tempest. 

Tempest accepted the washing cloth but before he actually started to clean himself, he asked: “Um, do you intent to watch me doing this?”

“Oh, sorry, I used to give the little ones bathes and when I kept my gaze off them they would just escape. I just can't get rid of this habit.”, Ornstein said and turned around to give Tempest some privacy. Tempest had no clue about who Ornstein even had talked. Did he had kids once? Little siblings? Or was he referring to pets like a dog? Once Tempest was done, he exclaimed it loudly and asked if he was allowed to leave the pool now. 

“Look at all this dirt.”, Ornstein gestured to the part of the pool that had practically blackened by all the dirt before giving Tempest a towel. “I am going to find a few clothes for you, just don't wander away.” With that words the dragon slayer left and Tempest was left alone to dry his body off. 

Tempest just had finished rubbing his hair dry when the dragon slayer returned and tossed a few black leather clothes in front of him. “Unfortunately, Ciaran's clothes are the only ones that may fit you.”, he said. Tempest picked the clothes up. Nothing too bad, just some simple pants and a vest. No underwear though. Well, Tempest would hopefully be able to wash his loincloth later. It still laid on the side of the pool. 

After slipping into the clothes, it became apparent that they had been made for a female body, but they fit Tempest well enough. He felt both lighter and a lot more unprotected without the elite knight armour. After Tempest was dressed, Ornstein, who had put on his armour (and hopefully his shirt) back again in the meantime, nodded in satisfaction and ordered him to follow. They ended up at the large area near the bonfire. 

“Pull out your weapon and show it to me.”, Ornstein ordered and Tempest did so, pulling the Katana out and presented it to the dragon slayer. He took it and eyed it thoroughly. 

“A weapon from the east. Has a nice edge to it, very sharp blade, makes foes bleed quickly. However, breaks easily. How did you even come into the possession of such a weapon? They aren't exactly common here.”

That actually was a rather funny story. In the Undead Burg, Tempest had found a merchant but unfortunately had lacked any souls to actually buy anything from him at the moment, so he politely declined his wares, which only prompted the merchant to say out aloud, that he should fall off a cliff. Annoyed by such a mean thing, Tempest had shoved the merchant and accidentally scratched him with the tip of his sword, which the merchant had took as cue to attack him with this particular katana. But before he could do anything, the merchant had lost balance and fell down the burg. Tempest had picked up the katana later at the place where he had died. The merchant never appeared again. He either moved on or had become hollow. 

Tempest opened his mouth and said “Well.”, intending to tell this story, when the dragon slayer already interrupted him. “Show me which other weapons you have.” 

Tempest closed his mouth and went for the bottomless box at the bonfire, returning with every weapon he had picked up so far. It weren't too much. A combination of swords, a mace, an axe, some spears. Tempest actually expected that Ornstein picked up one of the spears, but instead, he went for a straight sword. 

“Straight swords are a good weapon to start with.”, Ornstein explained. “You can use a very versatile movement with them and they are quite sturdy.” Ornstein swung the sword around a bit, did a thrust attack, a slash, a slice and series of quick slashes in demonstration. Tempest only stared at awe. This knight in front of him really knew what he was doing. He felt like he had always just blindly swung his weapon around. 

“However.”, Ornstein continued, “The best sword won't do anything when its bearer can't wield it correct. Here.”, he tossed the sword to Tempest. “I need to know how well you handle yourself in a duel so that I have a base to start.” Ornstein picked up another sword for himself, leaning his dragon slayer spear against a wall. 

“What, I shall duel you?”, Tempest asked aghast. 

“You already won against me, remember?”, the dragon slayer replied. “Now prepare yourself.”

That was the only warning Tempest got before Ornstein lunged at him and struck him with his own sword. Tempest winced in pain and rolled away, a method that had been rather effective for dodging the strikes of his mostly far larger foes. 

Ornstein turned around and swung his sword at him, Tempest quickly threw his own in the air, trying to block the blow, but got quickly overwhelmed by the quick follow up strikes that the dragon slayer pressured onto him. After what felt like less a minute, he laid on the ground, the sword tip on his throat and Ornstein simply said: “Dead.” 

Tempest was grateful when the dragon slayer removed the sword tip from his throat, casually leaning it over his shoulder, when Tempest crawled back up. Was this really the same guy he had fought in the cathedral? It felt like the Ornstein the cathedral had either been weakened or had been going easy on him. No, Tempest didn't think he did go easy on him. Sometimes he had been killed in two strikes. But when Ornstein had put this pressure on him when with the executioner, Tempest wouldn't have stand the slightest chance. 

“Everything is off about your stance.”, Ornstein said, coming closer to Tempest. “You need to correct it.” The dragon slayer forcefully touched Tempest arms, legs and waist and bent him into a what felt like a very awkward stance for Tempest. 

“Hold this for 30 minutes, then we can continue.”, Ornstein said, leaning against the wall next to his spear. 

While Tempest tried to hold the pose Ornstein had forced him into, he had some time to observe the dragon slayer. After a short while, Ornstein put the sword down he had used to duel with and instead picked up his spear again, just staring blankly at nothing. Or at least his lion helmet made it look like this. Tempest didn't like this awkward silence and decided to try for some smalltalk. 

“I didn't knew you were so good with a sword. I thought the spear was your favoured weapon.”

“The spear is my favoured weapon, but I have trained the silver knights for a millennia to use swords. Of course I know how to wield a sword.”

“So when you favour spears, why do you want to train me with a sword?”

“Better basics. Easier to teach. Spears are more specialized. By the way, your stance is crumbling.”

That was true, Tempest wasn't able to hold it any longer and pretty much stumbled on the ground. 

“Ouch, my entire body feels like hurting.”, he complained.

Ornstein sighed beneath him. “That could take some time...”

And so they continued the session, Ornstein occasionally coming over to Tempest to forcefully correct his stance (Tempest swore he could hear his bones creak). This procedure continued until it was night all of a sudden. Tempest hadn't even noticed that the sun had gone down. Instead, it was like someone had pulled a switch and made the day into the night. “That was sudden...”, Tempest mentioned.

“Gwyndolin has gone to sleep, then we should call it a day too.” Ornstein said and started to get into motion, walking towards the cathedral. Tempest followed him. 

“So, uh, why was it dark all of a sudden? What has it to do with the dark sun going to sleep?”, Tempest asked Ornstein. 

“Hmm.. I thought you already had found this out.”, Ornstein said. “Didn't you notice something strange about the sun while we were out there?”

“The night came far too sudden, I didn't even saw the sun move.”, Tempest said and it hit him like a brick. “The sun didn't move! Not a single time until I have arrived here. It must have been several days! Why didn't I ask myself why it was never night until now?” 

“So you figured that this town is covered in an eternal dusk. It always was the time when Anor Londo looked most beautiful.”

“So it's an illusion?”, Tempest asked, having to make an effort to keep up with Ornstein's long steps. Tempest looked in the sky to see a risen full moon. “A full moon, a dark sun...”, he whispered to himself. He glanced at Ornstein but the dragon slayer apparently was done talking with him. 

Back at the cathedral, Ornstein assigned a room to Tempest. It clearly once had been used as a guest room, aside from a bed, a cupboard and a table with chairs nothing was in it. Tempest didn't need to sleep, but lying down on a bed would be more comfortable when he had to wait for the night to pass. 

Besides showing Tempest the room, Ornstein hadn't give him any further instructions. While Tempest's bones and muscles did hurt, a quick sip of Estus eased the pain and he didn't feel like lying on the bed for several hours, so Tempest decided to explore the cathedral on his own. He was just walking through the hallways, when he smelled a horrible stench, like someone burned something up really bad. Apparently, having a bath made him sensitive to scents again, after Blighttown he had pretty much given up on using his nose ever again. It hadn't occurred to him that his own stench had been at fault for this. 

Tempest followed the stench to find an open door. Silently, he peaked in and saw Ornstein sitting at the table of a room that very much looked like a kitchen, reluctantly staring at whatever it was that he had cooked up. Seeing the kitchen, it itched in Tempest's hand. It had been so long, far too long. But the sight of the dragon slayer at the table, trying to eat an awful meal, made him reluctant to go in. He didn't know if Ornstein simply was a terrible chef or if this was some form of self punishment, so the small Undead decided to move on. 

The next day they continued their training. This time Tempest managed to hold the stance the desired time, so that Ornstein was satisfied with moving on to the next step. Which consisted in drillling every possible way a sword could be swung into Tempest's head. And the dragon slayer was a strict one, Tempest couldn't count how many times he had to repeat a certain strike until Ornstein was finally satisfied. Like the day before, they only stopped after the day had switched to the night. 

This evening Tempest peaked into the kitchen again, seeing Ornstein eating a dish that made his nose turn up. This continued for several days until Tempest was sure about one thing. 

This wasn't some kind of self-punishment, Ornstein simply was a terrible cook and his growing reluctance to eat day after day surely showed that he didn't enjoy his meals. In Tempest a plan took shape. 

The small Undead had snuck into the kitchen before the dragon slayer would get up and rummaged around in the supplies. To his surprise, he saw that there were plenty. There were so much ingredients, he never had seen so many at home. Tempest gathered everything he needed and got ready to prepare them, cutting up vegetables and meat, getting spices ready that were neatly stacked on a rack. He quickly put the one labeled with bone dust away though, putting it far behind the others, so that he never would accidentally grab it. 

Tempest fired up the oven with his pyromancy and intended to put a pot on it, but he was too small to actually reach it. Looking around, Tempest spooted a footstool in the corner and put it in front of the oven, stepping on it, getting the pot ready and starting to cook the stew with the prepared ingredients. Even though Tempest himself didn't taste a lot anymore, his sense of smell was still excellent and so he should be able to dish out something nice. At least it would taste better than whatever it was that Ornstein had been cooking. Soon, the kitchen was filled with a nice smell. After the stew was done, Tempest covered the pot with a lid to keep it warm and waited. 

Soon enough, the dragon slayer entered the kitchen, hair neatly tied back into a ponytail, but not in his iconic armour yet, instead, in that simple linen clothes he usually wore underneath. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Tempest leaning against the wall. “What the...?”

“Surprise.”, Tempest blurted out, removing the lid of the stew and filling up a plate with it. “You have never asked me, but I am quite a decent chef. I thought I should thank you for training me with a little meal.” 

The brows of the dragon slayer furrowed, but then his gaze softened. Tempest put the plate on the table, placed a spoon in it and retreated to the wall again. Ornstein came over to take a look. He sat down, stared into the stew for a few minutes and then put the spoon up to have a taste of it. Tempest vibrated with excitement. 

“That tastes... nice.”, Ornstein said. “Not as good at Smough's, but... it's warm.” 

Tempest was satisfied. That felt like the most of a compliment he could get out of the dragon slayer's mouth. 

“I am going to the training grounds and wait there for you.”, Tempest said, standing up from leaning against the wall and approaching the kitchen door. When he was almost through it, he heard the dragon slayer say: “Wait...”

Tempest turned around. “Yes?”

“Would you cook again..? Not.. not because I like it very much or so, but... it is still better than mine, so...”

A big grin flashed over Tempest's face. “Of course.”, he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Tsundere Ornstein. Also, I want to thank Sekiro for teaching me how sword fights are looking like! Thank you, Sekiro!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest's training continues. He tries to talk to Ornstein. He learns some interesting facts about Seath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning, this chapter contains a few very special headcanons about Seath and it could give you weird mental images in your head.
> 
> Also, please look at this wonderful [fanart](https://velvialines.tumblr.com/post/184978157488/littlest-storm-a-piece-of-fanart) that the amazing Velvialines from tumblr made me.

“Your stance is all wrong.” 

Their swords clung at each other while Ornstein was forcing Tempest against the wall. 

“Unnecessary movement.”, Ornstein shouted while Tempest tried to lift his sword for a counter attack when Ornstein had removed his own for the next strike. 

“And dead again.”, Ornstein finished, when he had managed to force Tempest on the ground, sword on his throat. The Undead slowly got up, growling. 

“It would be easier when you would let me dodge.”, he complained. 

“I am teaching you correct swordplay, little storm. I never said it would be easy.” Ornstein picked up the sword and tossed it to Tempest. “Again.” 

Tempest mindlessly caught the sword and got into stance. Since they had left the archives around four days had passed and Ornstein gave his all to train Tempest, drilling everything into the mind of the small Undead. 

“How much longer do we have to do this?”, Tempest asked and watched as his sword was sent flying. 

“Now would have been the time to evade, you are unarmed.”, Ornstein hissed. “And dead.”, he said when once again his sword touched a vital point of Tempest. Tempest himself was grateful that Ornstein didn't actually kill him, even though he would come back to life. Ornstein probably preferred training someone who didn't look like a dried out raisin all the time. 

“And for your question, how long we have to do this, as long as it takes.”, Ornstein continued. “The more you try, the faster we are done.” 

Tempest sighed and picked up his sword again, turning around and countering the first attack of Ornstein, because in the meantime he had learned that Ornstein wouldn't wait for him to declare that he's ready. 

“Oh, little storm, you are learning.” Tempest was sure Ornstein had a grin under this helmet of his and actually felt a little bit of pride swelling up in his chest, which got into panic quickly when the next attack of the dragon slayer hit and ripped a large wound. 

Even though Ornstein wasn't killing Tempest, he wasn't holding back when it came to attacking and so Tempest Estus was constantly used during this training sessions. 

“In a real fight you won't have time to fumble for this thing to drink. You need to wait for the right moment when you have something like a healing potion.”, Ornstein explained, while he waited for the wound to heal. Tempest had the assumption in the future Ornstein wouldn't let him drink the Estus freely anymore, but would apply more pressure on him. 

Tempest fell onto the ground after the wound healed, panting. “I am done for. Can we stop for now?”, he begged. 

“Hmph, it isn't even dark yet.”, Ornstein said, but a loud growling of his stomach betrayed the dragon slayer. Tempest couldn't help but grin at the sound, it showed that the dragon slayer was very much a living person and not some kind of unreachable legend from the histories. 

“You haven't heard anything.”, Ornstein growled and Tempest was sure the face of the dragon slayer was as red as his hair under his helmet. He got awfully easy embarrassed. That was the first thing Tempest had learned about Ornstein in this few days. 

“Let's call it a day and continue tomorrow.” Ornstein collected the swords and brought them to a nearby weapons stand, then turned around to head for the cathedral. 

“It is boring training with swords all the time, can't we train with spears tomorrow?”, Tempest casually asked as they went back to the cathedral. 

“You haven't even mastered the sword yet.”

“Maybe I am just suited for spears better, who knows?” 

“If you insist. But you are gonna regret this.” 

This time, Tempest was sure that a grin had washed over the dragon slayer's face. 

\---

At first when Tempest had made the meals for Ornstein, he had retreated and watched from the kitchen door, which had annoyed the dragon slayer and so he had stepped to the side so that he wasn't in sight anymore, but still tried to watch Ornstein. Which hadn't worked, because the dragon slayer had come to the door and just stared him down with crossed arms and then said, if Tempest wanted company, he should just come sit at the table. 

This was when Tempest assumed that Ornstein maybe was the one who wanted the company, but of course the dragon slayer wouldn't admit it. And so it had become common for Tempest to accompany the dragon slayer during his meals. Tempest himself couldn't taste anything anymore and he also was never feeling hungry since he became Undead, but he very much enjoyed the reactions the dragon slayer had about his meals. Also, meal time was a good opportunity for some small talk. 

“It is amazing that you have so many supplies left even after several hundreds year.”, Tempest had said one day while cooking. 

“Gwyndolin has their methods.”, Ornstein replied to this, watching from the kitchen door. 

Today, also, Ornstein was standing in the kitchen door, watching as Tempest prepared the meal. And that after Ornstein himself had gotten annoyed when Tempest had done this. 

“You can come in, you know.”, Tempest said while cutting vegetables. 

“I can't.”, Ornstein simply replied. “It's to soon.”, he added, very quietly. Tempest shrugged. Ornstein seemed to have his reason. The small Undead was already contempt with Ornstein being much more accommodating these last few days. The dragon slayer genuinely seemed to enjoy training Tempest, even though he acted like it was the most annoying thing during training sessions. Tempest felt that he already had looked through the thick shell of armour the dragon slayer wore. The man behind this armour was much softer than anyone would think and Tempest felt determined to get this shell to crack one day. 

“We are going to be friends.. and maybe.. more than that...”, Tempest murmured into the pot and dreamily stirred the contents. 

“What are you murmuring about?”, Ornstein asked from the door, startling Tempest who managed to knock the pot down. With a flash, Ornstein was at his side and caught the pot, saying: “Be more careful. You are only making a mess like this.” 

“Thank you.”, Tempest said, flabbergasted, the spoon that he used to stir high up in the air. Even though any injuries he had could be healed with a few sips from his estus flask, getting a pot of scalding hot soup over him would have hurt a lot. 

“I didn't save you, I just didn't want to waste the food.”, Ornstein murmured, setting the pot back down on the stove, averting his gaze. “Also, I didn't want to clean up a mess.”, he added, wanderin back to stand in the kitchen door.

“Don't worry, you can leave any mess to me. I am quite good at houseworks.”, Tempest cheerfully said and put the prepared spices into the soup. He then put the lid onto the pot, jumped down from the footstool and wandered over to the table. 

“It will need to cook a while before it is ready.”

Reluctantly Ornstein came in and seated himself down opposite from Tempest. 

“So.”, Tempest started. Ornstein rarely ever started a conversation. “I know you are still training me and I am already thankful for that, but one day we have to go back and eventually slay this dragon, Seath, right?” 

Tempest saw how Ornstein's green eyes locked on him, very good, he had his attention. 

“Yes? That is the task you have been assigned to. Collecting the fragments of the lord soul and Seath has one of them.” 

“Yes, I know, we have gone over this already. It is just... you know a lot more about this world and the lords than me or any history book could tell me. What can you tell me about Seath?”

Ornstein seemed to consider a short while, before crossing his arms and speaking: “The first thing that comes to mind when it comes to Seath is, that he was a traitor to his own race. Granted, with his information we were able to win the dragon war and that was also the reason he was granted dukedom and the archives.”

“I know, that is in every history book.”, Tempest said, glancing back to the pot to see if he would need to intervene. 

“I never liked Seath.”, Ornstein continued. “I don't know everything he did in these archives, but it were surely some atrocious things. Sometimes maiden vanished and we could never proof it, but I am sure Seath took them. When we asked him to hoard Undead before they got send to the asylum, I am sure we got less back then we originally handed over. Oh sorry, that must be a sour spot.”

Tempest had looked at Ornstein with a blank look. Being undead himself and having brought to the asylum, it was indeed a sore spot. But it wasn't like Tempest couldn't understand their reasons. Seeing what a dangerous land Lordran was, now that it was swarmed with hollows... “Don't worry about it, please continue.”

“Seath misses scales, I am sure you have seen this when you barged into his study room.”, Ornstein said and glared at Tempest before adding a “little storm.” 

“I have seen that he was covered by crystals .”, Tempest answered. “That was before I got killed by his crystal breath.” 

“This information is new.”, Ornstein murmured. “He must have tried to replace his scales with twinkling titanite. Seath kind of obsessed over it. The crystal golem we fought must have been a side effect of his studies, as well as all the crystallized hollows.”

Tempest grew impatient: “These are all hard facts. What about Seath's character? Like he acts or what he does? Is there something we can use against him?” 

“Seath is a cautious one.”, Ornstein continued. “I once heard him say that he finally has found the way to immortality, but that has been long ago. I have to assume that he has an item or something hidden somewhere tied to it.”

Tempest nodded. “Anything else?”

Ornstein stayed silent for a while before opening his mouth again: “Seath did had almost everyone in Anor Londo inside him or was inside them, but I don't know how we should use this against him.”

Tempest jaw dropped. “What?!”, he started, face flushing to red. From all the things he would have expected, this was the least and even more, the least words he would have expected out of the mouth of the dragon slayer. Still trying to process this information, Tempest continued: “Have you...?”

“No.”, Ornstein shut him off before he could even finish the question. “I said almost everyone. I wasn't one of them.”, he huffed, crossed his arms and turned away. “What do you take for me, seeking to share the bed with a dragon?” 

“I am sorry.”, Tempest shrunk down, but then curiosity take over again. “Just how?” 

Ornstein deeply sighed. “I shouldn't have said anything, but I have brought this about myself, so I will explain it to you. 

Seath invented a magic that made his form closer to that of a god or a divine. This is how he did it.” 

“A magic like this exists?!”, Tempest asked excitedly. “And Seath used it to...”

“Yes.”, Ornstein nodded before Tempest could even finish the sentence. 

“...How did you find out?” 

“When your silver knights flock to the archives every evening, you are starting to get suspicious.”, Ornstein started to tell. “So one day I followed them silently and when I finally had my turn to speak with Seath, the dragon was far too delighted. As if he wasn't expecting to see me at all. Well, I hadn't any intention to go there normally, he is still a dragon and playing chess with him was just awful.” 

Tempest now hung on the lips of the dragon slayer. A story from his time in an age where Anor Londo was still in bloom and even though the content was... questionable to say the least.. Tempest already was invested in it. And it was rare to get the dragon slayer so talkative. 

“And then he asked me how I preferred it and that was when I understood.”, Ornstein continued. “Of course I denied. Seath still tried to persuade me, but he didn't succeed. He stopped when I threatened to put my spear between his eyes.” Ornstein briefly paused. “Of course Seath was under Lord Gwyn's protection but the threat still worked. Seath probably knew that I would have done it even when it would have meant punishment.

And thus I found out what it was my silver knights were doing in the archives.” He averted his eyes and Tempest could see the hue of red on his cheeks. Of course it had been embarrassing for Ornstein to speak about this. 

“It is kind of impressive for him to run a one-dragon-brothel.”, Tempest dropped without thinking and caught Ornstein's glare, shrinking down again, quickly hurrying to the pot to check the temperature. 

“I would like to give you a knock for this, but sadly you are right. In short, Seath was one thirsty dragon.”, Ornstein said. “But like I said, how should we use this against him? I for sure, won't strip my armour in front of him and lie lascivious on the ground.” 

The thought of Ornstein lying lascivious on the ground without his armour almost gave Tempest a nose bleed and he quickly stirred the soup while pressing a hand against his nose, trying to get the hotness in his head away. 

“That is the least bit of facts about Seath I would have expected.”, Tempest said, preparing a plate to put the soup in. 

“You asked for it, now don't blame me when you can't get the mental image out of your head.”, Ornstein said. Tempest came over and put the soup down in front of Ornstein. “Enjoy your meal.”, he said and sat down at the opposite of Ornstein again. 

After a while of silent eating, Ornstein suddenly spoke: “What's wrong? Your face looks kind of cramped.”

“Huh?”, Tempest hadn't even noticed that he had made a face. “Oh, I am just processing the fact you told me that Seath is basically a hoe.” 

“Yes, you can call him that, in a blunt way.”, Ornstein said, taking another sip of the soup. “There were rumours he did it to make Lord Gwyn jealous. Seath had this very obvious, large crush on our Lord and he was the only one to not notice it.”

Tempest was glad that he didn't eat or drink anything, because he would have spat it out otherwise: “Excuse me?!” 

“Seath had a crush on Lord Gwyn, how hard is that to understand?”, Ornstein said, an annoying glance fell into Tempest's direction. “Or have you never heard that a men could be attracted to another men?”

“No, that's not it.” Far from it actually, Tempest very well knew how it was to feel attracted to another men. After all, it had been like this for him his entire life. Also, it was more a dragon having a crush on a god, but Tempest felt like he shouldn't point this out.

“It is just, Gw.. Lord Gwyn had children and a wife. That is very well known.” 

“Correct and this is the reason why Gwyn never spared another glance at Seath. He was heartbroken after his wife died and never wanted to enter another relationship.” 

“.... Also, Seath probably wouldn't have been the best choice. With him, you know...” Tempest made a respective gesture. 

“Now you are getting the gist of it.”, Ornstein grinned. 

\---

Tempest had gotten a room and a bed assigned by Ornstein, but since he was undead, he didn't need sleep. The dragon slayer however, still very much needed his sleep. Tempest found it excruciating boring to just wait the night lying on the bed, so he made it his habit to explore the cathedral in the nights. 

The cathedral looked so much smaller when Tempest had searched his way to the great hall, to fight Ornstein and Smough. He hadn't even noticed how many hallways there have been, how large this building actually was. Or maybe he shouldn't have find them, maybe it was the doing of Dark Sun Gwyndolin and they simply had hidden every hallway he shouldn't find behind an illusion. After all, going through Anor Londo and receiving the lord vessel had been a mere test. 

Thinking about this, while Tempest wandered the hallways, he started to feel incredible sorry for Ornstein. He must have been aware about this and was still tasked with fighting a battle he eventually had to lose. He probably had already found peace in dying at this place and then Tempest came and failed to give him the kill he desired. Tempest suddenly understood why the dragon slayer had been so mad at him.

After all, Tempest knew very well how it was not being able to die properly. 

While Tempest was lost in his thoughts, he crossed a door that he hadn't seen before. Curiously, he opened it and slipped into the room. 

Tempest gaze fell on a large table with a set of chairs next to it, one of them being particular large. A stack of paperwork was put down on the table, next to it were laying a few scattered pieces of paper, looking like notes, reminding Tempest of the orange soap stone messages Undeads from another world would carve into the ground. 

But what was the most notable thing where the big wooden boards that stood around the table, along where the chairs where and when Tempest went to investigate, what stared at him were awesome accurate depictions of the knights of Gwyn. 

Lord's Blade Ciaran, Artorias the Abysswalker and Hawkeye Gough were all staring at him, carefully painted, each stroke seemed to carry the weight of a thousand memories. Tempest slowly walked around them, taking them in. There wasn't a wooden board that depicted a painting of Ornstein. 

“I wonder if he uses this room when he feels lonely.”, Tempest mused, sitting down on the table and scanning the messages, taking one of them and folding it open to see the contents. 

It were encouraging messages. Each and every one of them signed with a different name. Each and every one of them addressing the recipient as captain. Tempest flipped through a few more of them until he came to ones which weren't signed anymore. Instead, the handwriting was always the same and it were little messages and notes that encouraged the dragon slayer to partake in a certain activity. 

Ornstein had mentioned that he and the executioner had been in a relationship, so Tempest assumed that these were from Smough. He quickly laid the notes back on the table, feeling a bit bad for having seen something that intimidate and quickly left the room. 

Tempest continued his trek through the cathedral and stopped once he came at a place which probably had been used for the roll call, near the silver knights quarters. There was a big blackboard and a table with a wooden box on it, which had a slit, as if someone could put something into it. Tempest wondered if the notes he had found originated from this box. 

It wasn't really important right now though and so he shrugged and decided to get a book to read until Ornstein awoke. The library of the cathedral paled in comparison to the dukes's archives, but there were still quite a few books there. Tempest mostly enjoyed reading the history books, totally intending to ask Ornstein about what was true and what was exaggerated . 

The next day at breakfast, when Tempest had sat down at his usual position opposite from Ornstein, he asked the question he was the most curious about: “You were once the knight of the sunfirstborn, right? What was he like? He isn't mentioned in any book anymore. I wonder how people even knew he ever existed.”

When Ornstein visibly froze, Tempest knew he had made a mistake. 

“We don't talk about the master here.”, Ornstein replied coldly. “And don't ever ask me about him again.”

That must have been a touchy subject. Tempest muttered an apology and spent the rest of the breakfast half hidden under the table. He started to wonder if there had been something more between them. Ornstein was around a thousand years old, Tempest hardly could believe that he had only one partner. On the other hand, looking at Ornstein, Tempest could very well believe that this guy would stay abstinent for hundreds of years. He just eradicated that aura of correctness, mostly when in armour. His composure only seemed to crack a tiny little bit when he was outside or when he thought that nobody watched him. 

“It is as if dragon slayer Ornstein is a persona...”, Tempest muttered, unaware, that he had said it out aloud when he felt Ornstein's piercing gaze on him. 

“You better leave now.”, Ornstein said and Tempest knew that he had screwed up, again. With another muttered apology, Tempest left and decided to wait at the training grounds, sighing internally, because he expected that Ornstein would be particular hard to him today. 

When the dragon slayer arrived a little bit later, Tempest was surprised to see that he actually had brought spears instead of swords. Ornstein tossed a spear to Tempest which the little Undead caught and nearly lost balance, quickly using the long shaft of the spear to readjust himself. 

“So.”, Ornstein started. “Even though I think it would be better to continue training with swords instead, I must admit, that it is a good idea to branch out to other weapons and see if you have a knack for them.” He presented his own spear. Not the dragon slayer spear, a regular silver knight spear. Tempest noticed that he had been given a silver knightspear too. 

“When it comes to spears, you lose some of the versatility of a sword.”, Ornstein explained further. “But you gain a lot of range. And when you use a shield, it is easy to continue fighting even when you raise your shield.” Ornstein stopped for a short while. “I don't use shields though, I always found them to be restricting. And instead of only talking, let me demonstrate what you can do with a spear.”

“Yes, sir.”, Tempest answered enthusiastically. 

“Thrust attacks are the most common type of attacks with spears.”, Ornstein said and thrusted his spear forward. “It is especially useful to get a mounted foe on the ground. It was also especially useful to stab a dragon in the eye with it.”

“Next, you can also swipe with your spear.”, Ornstein demonstrated the mentioned motion with a wide swing. “With swords, swipe attacks are more for cutting. With spears, it depends if you use the shaft or the blade. Either way, it is guaranteed to get your foe off balance.

When I think about it, in short, you can say that wielding a spear must feel like your arm has extended. You just need to use that extra range wisely. In my opinion, spears were the most useful weapon to fight dragons. While swords often recoiled at their leftover stone scales, a spear could could bore deep into their flesh and finish them off.” 

Ornstein finished the demonstration with a combo attack and a leap, things Tempest had seen him done in their battle. 

“I don't expect you to be able to jump like that.”, Ornstein said and faced Tempest, attacking without warning like usual. 

Ornstein had been right. Tempest regretted proposing spears for training. When Ornstein was skilled with a sword, so had he reached absolute mastery with a spear. It only took the dragon slayer a few seconds to force the Undead on the ground and after a short while, Tempest Estus was already emptied and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. The next thing he knew, he awakened at the bonfire. Ornstein sat next to him.

“That has been too harsh of me, I am too used fighting with spears, so I accidentally inflicted a mortal wound.”, Ornstein said, head to the side, as if he wasn't able to look Tempest in the eyes. It actually felt like he was sorry.

“I am used to the pain of dying now.”, Tempest smiled. “Besides, I still have humanity left. I won't go hollow that quick anymore. At least for a while...” 

“Still, we should get back to swords tomorrow.”, Ornstein said. Apparently, the training session was already over. It didn't surprise Tempest. Appearing fully at the bonfire could take a good few hours. He was unconscious when it happened, but the ash his body turned into, probably needed some time to put it together again. Tempest wondered, if it was possible to observe this process from the outside. 

After he had reversed his hollowing, the both of them ventured back to the cathedral where Tempest fulfilled his role of cooking a meal for Ornstein. The dragon slayer still hadn't showed any curiosity for why Tempest was able to cook so well. Whatever, Tempest was sure that he would ask eventually. Or maybe not. The dragon slayer was more willing to talk to Tempest nowadays, but he still didn't showed any interest in him at all besides making him into a warrior. 

“Of course it is like this.”, Tempest talked to himself while wandering the hallways after dinner was over. “In his eyes, you are just this puny Undead, nonetheless the one who killed his lover, failed to properly end his life and then came stumbling to him, asking for help.”, Tempest sighed. “And still you wish it would be different, that you had his attention and that he would hold you. Why should he even fall in love with you? I am just a mess! I am not even a real soldier.”

Tempest was far too frustrated to continue his trek through the cathedral right now and since Ornstein had given him his first bath in what had been probably month, Tempest realized how much he had missed that comfort. So he got a towel and soap, things he had found in the guest room, and walked into the changing room, where he got rid of his clothes and folded them neatly, laying his estus flask on top of them, before walking into the area with the public pool. 

Tempest carefully entered the water and sat down, sighing when the hot water engulfed his sore muscles. 

“Little storm?”, a voice suddenly asked and Tempest jumped up in surprise, turning his head to see that Ornstein had been in the bath all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately we have been in Tempest mindset a lot, but I intend to go back to Ornstein eventually, maybe switching their POVs even in chapters. But you can be sure about one thing, the POVs will always be from the main couple, never from another character.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest finds out a few things about the dragon slayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to get these two back into the action soon, but for now I needed another chapter of fluff and pining ^^

Tempest expected Ornstein to be mad, but he looked more surprised. As if he wasn't expecting Tempest to march into the bath. Maybe he just hadn't registered the situation and would get mad in a few seconds when it clicked. 

While Tempest waited for Ornstein to explode, he noticed that the dragon slayer had his long hair pinned-up on his head, only the shorter bangs dangling down framing his face. Tempest could spot his muscular chest, rested his eye on the scar for a brief moment, guilt bubbling up in his stomach and then couldn't help but look farther down, while the water was steaming hot, it still was crystal clear. 

And what he saw made Tempest face flush red, he could feel the nosebleed coming and before he knew it, his world had become dark. 

\---

Ornstein had been quick to catch Tempest with one arm when he collapsed with a nosebleed. He might be unable to truly die, but drowning from having passed out in the bathroom wasn't something Ornstein wanted to put the little Undead through. 

He carefully lifted him up and brought him to the side of the pool, using the towel Tempest had seemingly brought as a pillow, carefully pushing the head through the side. The nosebleed was already ceasing. 

Ornstein started to shiver. He fetched his own towel and dried himself up, planning to bind it around his waist, then remembering that Tempest was of course wet too and he quickly rubbed the little Undead dry before covering his private parts with it. 

Technically he should have covered Tempest too, but they were out of towels. Ornstein already had washed him once, so he hopefully wouldn't mind. Back then, the little storm hadn't acted modest a lot. 

Sitting down next to Tempest, Ornstein started to reminiscent. A situation like this had once happened to him too. 

When he had broken his arm during a duel with Artorias, the master had invited him into his personal bathroom to help him clean himself up. Ornstein, who had a massive crush on the master back then, but didn't knew that the master actually reciprocated them, had waited in the bathtub for the master to join him and got completely blown away when he hadn't covered his private parts one bit, passing out with a nosebleed. 

When he had came back to, the master had carefully laid him down on the ground, not unlike Ornstein had laid out Tempest right now. 

This reaction could only mean that Tempest was attracted to him. 

Ornstein honestly didn't knew how to feel about this. 

He had to admit, he had gotten strangely fond of the little storm the last few days. He made lots of efforts during training, his cooking tasted pretty good and it was nice having some company. 

Still, he was nothing more than a pawn to link the flame. Ornstein just had to escort him until this was done and then he was free to go, free to search for his master. There was no need to get attached. 

Besides, he had killed Smough. Even knowing that the both of them had been a mere test for the “Chosen Undead”, Ornstein missed him deeply and still felt a grudge that his beloved was gone, never to see again.

Stilll... Ornstein knew that it was unfair to hold the grudge against Tempest. He only did what he had been told. 

Ornstein sighed. He wasn't falling in love with him, right? It probably was just pity, yes, it had to be pity. That was all. 

And thinking about it, Ornstein didn't mind the company of the little Undead as much anymore. Maybe he just considered him a friend? That must be it. 

Still, he really shouldn't get attached. Ornstein exactly knew what fate awaited Tempest. 

Speaking of him, Tempest lowly groaned and started to open his eyes. 

\---

The first thing Tempest noticed was the face of the dragon slayer staring at him, the second that he felt quite cold and the third, that he was indeed completely naked. He shot up, face flushed red. 

“Are you awake? Maybe you shouldn't move that sudden right away, you were passed out.”, Ornstein casually said. Tempest noticed that luckily the dragon slayer had tied a towel around his waist. The naked rest of him though, still looked very desirable. Tempest quickly looked elsewhere. 

“I am sorry, I didn't want to invade in the bath, I just wanted to get myself clean.”, he started to ramble. “I missed baths.”, he added. 

“Well then, the pool is all yours, I feel clean enough.”, Ornstein said and stood up. “You probably want to clean that nosebleed up anyway.” 

Tempest touched his nose and indeed felt the crusted blood of his nosebleed. That was even more embarrassing. Passing out with a nosebleed in front of Ornstein like this. Tempest slowly went back into the pool, glancing at Ornstein. The dragon slayer didn't make any attempts to comment further on this whole incident. Tempest gaze wandered from the towel around Ornstein's waist to his still dry hair. 

“Wait.”, he shouted. 

Ornstein, who almost was out of the door, turned around, giving him an impatient look. 

“Aren't you planning on washing your hair?”, Tempest asked. 

“With hair as long as mine it is too much of a hassle to wash it every single bath.”, Ornstein replied, calm and collected. 

“I could help you.”, Tempest offered. 

Ornstein stared at him a little while longer, before dropping a single “No.” and leaving the bathroom for good. 

\---

The next morning, when Tempest accompanied Ornstein for breakfast, he suddenly spoke: “So how did you found out?”

How rare for Ornstein to be the one to speak up. Although, Tempest felt confused, raising a brow, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“Gwyndolin.”, Ornstein said. “You came into the Dark Moon Tomb to ask for help, why wouldn't you try and ask the princess for help first while she is right there?” 

“Oh, I did ask Princess Gwynevere first.”, Tempest explained. “But after I told her my whole deal, she just replied with the same thing she told me the first time. I decided to try around a bit and she was saying the same thing over and over again, regardless what I said. I had the feeling that something was fishy then.”

Ornstein simply nodded and made a hand gesture that implied for Tempest to go on with his story. 

“I visited the catacombs once. I didn't do much there granted, it was mostly me running and screaming from all the skeletons, falling down several holes. However, I must have picked up something shiny on the way, because I awoke at Fire Link Bonfire with a ring in my hand.”

Tempest could hear Ornstein huff about this part of the story, he probably had called him an idiot mentally. 

“I looked at the ring and recognized the symbol of the blades of the dark moon. I remembered the old tales about Lord Gwyn's last born, a goddess that punished the sinners and was able to create powerful illusions.

I also remembered the tales that Princess Gwynevere had left Anor Londo a long time ago. Her appearance here was quite strange, wasn't it?”

“You seem to be smarter than I thought.”, Ornstein mentioned between bites. 

“So I figured that Princess Gwynevere is merely an illusion, created by Dark Sun Gwyndolin and where else would I search for the Dark Sun as in a place literally called the Dark Moon Tomb? When I went there with the ring, the statue of Lord Gwyn disappeared and then... then I met you.”, Tempest finished his story. “And you know the rest.”

“And you were lucky.”, Ornstein said. “That it was me standing there. Gwyndolin could have easily taken your actions as heresy and attacked right away. What they almost did.” 

Tempest paled a bit at the thought of how close the Dark Sun had been to release their magic on him. If that would have happened, he probably would have gone hollow for sure. 

“Thankfully, everything turned out just fine.”, Tempest said with a sigh of relief. 

“Just fine. And that says the one who rushed into a fight with a dragon completely unprepared.”, Ornstein scoffed. “You better be prepared for today's training session.” 

Tempest really didn't like the grin that appeared on Ornstein's face.

\---

After the training and dinner was over (Ornstein didn't lie, he was pretty brutal this day), Tempest decided to read a few books and ended up in what was probably once the conference room of the knights, where he sat down at the table and started to flip open the pages of the first book. 

He didn't knew why, but the wooden boards with paintings of the other knights made him feel at ease somehow. They had kind of a comforting feel to them. And Tempest didn't even knew them in person (besides Ornstein of course). 

After Tempest had finished the first book, his gaze landed on the painting of Artorias, the Abysswalker. 

Although hidden mostly by the hood, the smile on that painting felt so gentle and warm. Tempest started to rummage around in his belongings until he found it. 

A ring with a wolf engraved on it. It was said that this ring once believed to the Abysswalker. Tempest traced the wolf on the ring, silently asking himself how the ring had landed in the Dark Root Garden. Shouldn't it had been buried with the Abysswalker? Tempest heard that there was a grave behind the sealed door in Dark Root Garden...

“Where have you found this?” 

Tempest startled at the sudden voice. He turned around to see Ornstein standing in the doorway, dressed simply in a night shirt (with a sheep pattern on it, of all things), hair loosely tied in a ponytail, as if he just wanted to have it out of the way. 

“Well?”, Ornstein said further, clearly growing impatient. Tempest stared down at the ring, understanding. 

“I found it on a withered corpse in Dark Root Garden, a path behind a living tree, where all this strange stone soldiers are.”, Tempest replied. “I was just asking myself how it landed there. I would have thought that it would have been buried with him.”

Ornstein left the doorway and crossed the way to the table with three strides. 

“Sif had it. Artorias bequeathed his sword and his ring to Sif. Judging that you have it, doesn't mean, that...” Ornstein gazes locked on Tempest, who felt like shrinking under it. Even though the face of the dragon slayer was surprisingly not intimidating, his glare still got to him.

“I just told you I found it on a corpse and it wasn't the corpse of a wolf.”, Tempest defended himself.

“Maybe Sif lost it then.”, Ornstein mused, instantly getting calm again. “And the person who picked it up didn't make it far before dying or hollowing for good.” Ornstein sat down on the table. “I would like you to give this ring back to Sif once we visit Artorias' grave. It belongs to her anyway.”

Tempest nodded. It felt like the dragon slayer meant this very serious. 

“Um, what about the rings of the other knights?”, he asked, having gotten curious. The wolf ring had been the only one he found. 

“The leo ring doesn't leave my finger.”, Ornstein answered and indeed, Tempest could spot it on the ring finger of his left hand. Ornstein stared at it intensely before continuing, as if the ring had a greater meaning. “The hawk ring has been given into the care of one of Gough's friend. He never told me who it was, so I don't know where it is. And Ciaran's ring is still with her.”

Huh, that last one sounded a bit strange. Was Ciaran still alive? Tempest had to admit, besides of Artorias, he hadn't heard of any deaths of the other knights. Ornstein was in front of him and still very much alive. What happened to Gough and Ciaran? Tempest gaze flickered over to their wooden board versions. 

Tempest didn't expect the dragon slayer to suddenly start speaking about them. 

“They make feel this room less lonely. Sometimes it is easier to pretend...” Ornstein stood up. “I have said enough.” He walked back to the door.

“Um, just one question.”, Tempest started, Ornstein turned around and made it wordlessly clear that he wouldn't wait long. “Shouldn't you be in bed?”

“Couldn't sleep.”, Ornstein sighed. 

“I don't mind having some company at night.”, Tempest said. “It gets lonely quick.”

Ornstein didn't came back into the room, but he felt he saw the tiniest smile at the corners of his lips, before he turned around and left for good. 

Tempest shouted one last “Good night.”, to him before he put his attention back to the books on the table. 

\---

The next day Tempest prepared the meal in the kitchen like usual. After a few minutes he had the feeling that something was missing and when he was turning around, he noticed, that Ornstein hadn't sneaked into the kitchen to watch him cook in the meantime. Weird, normally he would have gotten up by now. 

Tempest shrugged it off, maybe Ornstein just wanted to have some extra sleep. After all, he had told him yesterday night that he had trouble sleeping. He finished cooking the meal, put the lid on the pot and seated himself down at the table, waiting.

After around an hour was gone by, Tempest started to worry. He got up, doused the fire in the stove and went into the direction where he remembered Ornstein's room was. He found the right hallway and entered the first room, only after he entered did it came to his mind that maybe he should have knocked first. 

To Tempest's luck it had been the wrong room. There was nobody in there and the dust on it implied that there hadn't been anyone in there since years. Still, the room looked like it was ready to greet back its inhabitant any moment. The bed had blue sheets on it and there was a book on the night stand. 

Curiosity took over and so Tempest found himself closer to the night stand and picked up the book, flipping it open, surprised to see that it was a hand written recipe book, written in the most beautiful hand writing he had ever seen. Flipping through the pages, he noticed that pretty much every recipe was of cookies or cakes, there also were some drawings accompanying the recipes, showing how the recipe should turn out. 

When Tempest closed the book, he saw that it was signed with the name of Artorias. He felt a slight lump in his throat. It seemed he had wandered into the room of the Abyss Walker. And he had expected a LOT to find in this room, but not something like this. 

Tempest didn't know why, but he decided to pocket the book. He surely wanted to test out the recipes in the book, but he felt a bit guilty moving it from its places. 

Tempest just hoped that nobody would mind. 

Tempest left the room again, going to the next door. This time he knocked. And waited. When there wasn't an answer, he knocked again, waited a short time and then opened the door when he didn't heard anything. 

The worst case scenario was that he would surprise Ornstein by an activity he didn't want to be seen doing (but wouldn't he have locked the door then?), the best case scenario would be that the room would be empty again. 

To Tempest relief, it was the room of the dragon slayer and he simply was still in bed, sleeping. Tempest still found it weird, he normally would have gotten up already. Even if he had trouble sleeping, Tempest felt like Ornstein was the kind who wouldn't oversleep greatly like this then. Tempest decided to wake Ornstein and stepped closer to the bed. 

Now how should he go and wake an over two meter tall demigod? Tempest considered his options for a moment, but then decided that it was no use, he just had to try, so he leaned down, extened his hand and nudged Ornstein. “Um, Ornstein? It would already be time for training...”, he murmured, as if still being afraid to wake the dragon slayer. 

Tempest wouldn't had guessed in a million years what happened next, because he felt himself being pulled in a tight hug. Before he even knew it, he had been completely pulled into the bed, Ornstein practically cuddling him like he was some kind of stuffed animal. 

Tempest immediately felt his face flush red and also the feeling of dread started to creep into him.

“When he wakes up, I am dead.”, Tempest thought to himself. It would be the best if he managed to remove himself from this situation, gently, careful, to not wake up the dragon slayer and act like this never ever happened. 

Sadly, the embrace of Ornstein was simply too strong. Tempest had no chance slipping out of it and even when he tried to struggle as hard as he could, it simply seemed to tighten the embrace. 

Now Tempest wasn't only fearing anymore to die when Ornstein woke up, but also to get squished in this embrace, the dragon slayer was so strong and in his sleep he clearly didn't notice that he wasn't cuddling with whatever he thought or dreamed about it was. Tempest already mentally prepared himself for his awakening at the bonfire, when the dragon slayer opened his eyes, staring at him in what looked like a shocked expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lately I end my chapters too often on romance tropes =D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein isn't getting attached! Or is he...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I got so many comments on different platforms and people like this fic and Tempest so much and I just want to say: Thank you so much! I hope you stay with Ornstein and Tempest until the very end!

Before Tempest could think about anything to say to explain the situation he was practically shoved off the bed, landing hard onto the floor, groaning in pain at the sudden fall. 

As soon as he managed to get up, he saw that the dragon slayer was sitting as far as he could away from him on the bed, practically pressing himself against the wall the bed was standing next to, his face flushed red, his curls a beautiful mess. 

“Th.. that wasn't what it looked like. I.. I just like to hug things in my sleep, th.. that's all.”, Ornstein stammered. Then, he seemed to fully realize the situation and blurted out: “What were you even doing in my room?!”

“My apologies.”, Tempest raised both hands in a gesture of reassurance. “I simply was worried about you, because you didn't show up at breakfast even though an hour had passed by and normally we should have started training in the meantime. I knocked, but got no answer, so I came in and tried to wake you. And then you, uh, almost squished me.”

At this words, Ornstein's face did the impossible task to turn even redder than before. 

“Right, thanks for waking me then. Please leave now, I need to get ready. We meet in the kitchen.”, he said. 

With a last smile Tempest turned around and walked into the direction of the door. When he arrived at it, his gaze fell on a painting. It was a bit crude, looked like it was done by someone who hadn't much experience with painting, but these figures were clearly Ornstein and Artorias. 

Tempest, who had seen the drawings of Ornstein, knew that his skill was far superior than this. This could only mean that one of the other knights had drawn it, probably Artorias himself. And Ornstein had hung it up in his room. Tempest suddenly felt guilty about that cookie book. He probably shouldn't have removed it from its place in the wolf knight's room. A part of him wanted to put it right away, but another part of him told him that he should hold onto it a little while longer. 

“Um, are you done staring at my door?”, Ornstein asked, who finally had managed to get off the bed, a bunch of clothes in his arms. 

“Oh sorry.”, Tempest said and rushed out of the door, back into the kitchen, where he didn't had to wait long for Ornstein to arrive. When the knight had looked like a nervous mess when he still had been in bed, now all of this was gone, with his armour put on, the hair tied into the usual ponytail and his helmet under his left arm while he carried his spear in the right. 

“Perfect timing, I just finished heating the meal up.”, Tempest said cheerfully and went to find something to fill the meal in. He heard how Ornstein sat down at the table, two clangs implied that he put both his helmet and his spear down. Tempest strolled over to the table and put the meal down in front of Ornstein, before seating himself down. 

“Just that you know, that didn't mean anything.”, Ornstein blurted out not even wasting a glance at his meal. This took Tempest off guard. 

“Huh?”, he wondered and then it rained back down on him. “Oh, you mean, the hug?” 

“Don't mention it.”, Ornstein hissed, picked up his silverware and started to eat. Tempest knew this subject was over for now. 

Still, it felt too quiet. Tempest didn't like this silence between them, it reminded him too much when they just had started out in the dark moon tomb and the most he got from the dragon slayer had been silent glares. Tempest felt like they had managed to become friends over the last days, he didn't just want such an incident to take it all away. He rummaged around in his mind for a topic, desperately wanting to break the silence, when he found something. 

“So, um, do you like sheep?”, he asked casually. 

Ornstein froze mid eating at this question, his face flushing a tint of red again, Tempest already felt ready to shrink down, feeling that he had said the wrong thing, when Ornstein asked: “How do you know this?!” 

“I didn't.”, Tempest replied truthfully. “That is why I ask. I just assumed that could be the case because your night shirt had a sheep pattern on it.” 

“Oh.”, Ornstein said. “Completely forgot that I had put this on. Almost all of my night shirts have been gifts from the master or got pictures embroidered on by Smough.” His tone felt casual enough for Tempest to continue this conversation. 

“So, does that mean you have a certain fondness of sheep? Because when I would gift someone something, I would make sure it matches their preferences.” 

It was a question that would have been easily answered with yes or no, so Tempest was surprised when the dragon slayer spoke: “To be honest, animals and me are a difficult thing. Most of them don't seem to like me and in response, I am wary about them too. Dogs, cats, birds, they attacked me totally unprovoked on multiple occasions.” 

Tempest mouth fell agape. He had expected a lot, but not a full blown confession that the dragon slayer was afraid of animals. At least the three he had mentioned were a very safe bet. 

“But I never had this problem with sheep. They never attacked me. They were just there and they were soft and cuddling against them made me feel secure.”, Ornstein had a dreamy look in his eyes, as if he was reliving a pleasant memory. 

Tempest had to grin about the thought of Ornstein cuddled up against a fluffy sheep. “That is so cute.”, he said. 

Which instantly shifted the mood of Ornstein around. “Why have I even told you this? Go prepare for our training and forget what I just mentioned!” 

Tempest instantly stood up and rushed out of the room, although not without a heavy grin. The dragon slayer could play as tough as he managed, there was an undeniable soft side in him and Tempest was close breaking through to it.

“I am sure one day he will feel secure to share his secrets with me.”, Tempest murmured to himself while he strolled down the hallway, heading to the training grounds. 

\---

Ornstein was walking alongside Gwyndolin into the direction of the training grounds. He had asked them for help with today's training session and the moon deity had agreed. 

“So, how is he making himself?”, Gwyndolin asked, wiggling alongside Ornstein. Even after all these centuries Ornstein found it fascinating how they moved when they didn't teleport. 

“Better than I initially thought. He isn't a lost cause, but far from being a good knight also. He is clumsy, moves too much and tries to rely on rolling for dodging far too often.”, Ornstein replied with a huff. “But...”, he continued. “He adapted and learned and in these ten days he made massive progress. He probably will never be a knight, but a little warrior instead.” 

“...Ornstein, are you getting attached?” 

That question hit Ornstein like a bucket of cold water. A faint memory of Artorias doing this to him on hot summer days briefly crossed his mind, before he answered: “What? No, why should I? I only have to escort him to the first flame and then I am free to go. It is just easier when he actually knows how to fight.”

Ornstein felt that this only was the half truth. He felt that he indeed had become attached to the little storm. He sighed. He didn't want to lie to Gwyndolin. “Maybe a little bit. This journey gets easier when we get along, right?”

“I am just warning you. You know that he has to burn to keep the flame going. I don't want you to get hurt.”

_You have gotten hurt enough already._ Gwyndolin hadn't said this, but Ornstein knew that these unspoken words lingered in the air beyond them. 

“I know...” The dragon slayer stared on the ground and they stayed silent for the rest of the way. 

Just after they had rode the elevator to the training grounds, Ornstein could spot Tempest already training on his own. If that could be called training. He had picked up the spear again and failed in every aspect adding the length of the weapon to his repertoire, but instead he stumbled and fell down because the momentum of his thrust pulled him down. 

The undead pulled himself up with a bloody nose and a grin on his face, saying out aloud: “When Ornstein does this, it looks so much easier.” 

Ornstein felt his heart flutter and he had to avert his gaze at this sight. Damn, that had looked cute. _Don't get attached_ , he thought to himself. 

Still, he didn't felt that it was wrong being friends. For now. It wasn't like they were dating. 

“Um, are you coming, Ornstein?”, Gwyndolin asked and Ornstein reacted just in time to jump off the elevator before it drove back down. With a few strides he was at Tempest side. The small undead had already healed any wounds with a sip from his Estus, practically beaming when he saw Ornstein. 

“Ah, Ornstein, you have taken your time, so I decided to train on my own. Though, I am not really getting how do you make this thrusts with your spear without falling down? Can you show me this?” 

“I thought I told you we were going back to swords.”, Ornstein scolded Tempest. 

“Sorry.”, Tempest gave Ornstein a sheepish smile. “I just wanted to try it out. I get the swords.” Only now seemed he to notice that Gwyndolin was with them. “Oh, Dark Sun Gwyndolin is with you today?” 

“They have agreed to help out with your training.”, Ornstein explained. “I have to see how you hold up against more than one foe.”

Tempest took a step back, looking aghast. “I shall fight against both of you at once?!”

Ornstein shook his head in annoyance. “No, they will conjure up a few foes for you to fight.” He gave Tempest a glare that signalled “Don't you dare lay a hand on Gwyndolin.” before remembering that he was wearing his helmet. 

“Oh, alright.”, Tempest said. “I, um, go get my sword now.” The small Undead awkwardly ran into the direction of the bonfire, where Ornstein had made a habit to keep the weapons for training, leaving the dragon slayer alone with Gwyndolin. He deeply sighed. 

“If he manages to withstand this test, I was thinking about heading back to the archives tomorrow, but when I see him like that, I doubt that he will manage.”, he spoke. 

Next to him, Gwyndolin's face turned into a smile. “Don't be too hard, Ornstein, you once started out like this too, remember?” 

“How could I ever forget the hell of a training your older brother liked to put me through?”, Ornstein said with a grin, but instantly after this both of them fell silent. 

“Ornstein.”, Gwyndolin was the first to break the silence. “If you find him... please tell him, I miss him.” 

Ornstein felt a lump in his throat. He nodded, feeling like any words he could say were stuck in his throat. After all, when all of this would be over, he, too, would leave Gwyndolin behind. 

“If anything happens, you just have to call and I return to your side in an instant.”, he finally managed to speak. Before Gwyndolin could say anything, Tempest returned with his sword. 

“Sorry that I made you wait.”, he said. “I am ready for today's training.”

“Good.”, Ornstein stepped forward. “Like I said, Gwyndolin will conjure up a few foes for you to take care off. They may be illusions, but they are still solid and can hurt you, so don't let your guard down.” 

Tempest nodded, taking his sword with both hands. “I am ready.”, he said, far more enthusiastic than Ornstein would have expected. 

“Gwyndolin, please.”, Ornstein gestured to them and they raised their catalyst. Soon after, a few crystal hollows had taken shape. An archer, one with a sword and one with a club. They slowly staggered towards Tempest. 

“I won't help you with this, beat them on your own. You can use your Estus.”, Ornstein said, leaning himself down on his spear, observing. 

The first thing Tempest did, was rushing forward to take the archer out, dodging a swing of both the melee fighters. To Ornstein's discontent, he again used this weird dodge roll to do it. It turned out to be quite effective though, because both sword and club missed and hit the ground with a clank respectively thud instead. 

What he didn't manage to dodge though, was the arrow of the archer, which bored itself into his left shoulder. Hissing, Tempest seemed to ignore the pain and his sword found the archer which fell in two swift hits. 

“Damn, this guys are still so hard.”, Tempest complained, not paying attention and getting hit with a hard strike of the club hollow. He cried out in pain, twirled around, but found himself surrounded by both of his foes. He quickly backed away, nestling for his estus flask. Ornstein watched as he took a sip and his wounds quickly closed, then he clutched his sword again, dodging a hit of the sword hollow and striking it right after he came back up, backing away because the club hollow tried to strike again. 

This continued a few more minutes, until Tempest had done enough damage to both of the illusions that they vanished into thin air. He panted heavily, grabbing for his estus, because he had managed to get a few more wounds while fending them off. 

“That could hardly be considered elegant.”, Ornstein said. “But you have been calm and collected enough to be able to handle three foes at once. I am quite satisfied with your progress.” 

Tempest stared at Ornstein with big eyes. “A compliment out of your mouth? Have I died and gone hollow for good?”, he shouted. Ornstein could see how Gwyndolin chuckled next to him. 

“I am not needed here anymore, so I will leave you alone.”, they said and with a flick of their catalyst they were gone. Ornstein only could stare in shock how quickly they were gone, he hadn't expected to have to deal with Tempest on his own now. 

“So, um, this actually was, like a test, to see, if you can handle stuff.” Oh how Ornstein hated how clumsily this words came out. 

“Does that mean we are heading out tomorrow? Back to the archives?”, Tempest asked, his sword tip loosely on the ground, him practically leaning on it, not unlike Ornstein did with his spear. The dragon slayer nodded. 

“Then I'll go back to the cathedral now, I want to prepare something. Don't come into the kitchen until I'll allow it.”, Tempest said with a grin and rushed away. Ornstein just blankly stared after him. 

For someone who felt like giving up just a few weeks ago, he was strangely cheerful and enthusiastic. But maybe, just maybe, he was just feeling lonely. Ornstein surely knew how it felt. 

Ornstein let his gaze rest on the archives for a moment, before he turned around. He would take a walk through Anor Londo, he hadn't done this in a long time now. And once he returned, he was sure that dinner would wait for him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last night in the cathedral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I can only thank your continued support for my story. Ornstein and Tempest will go back out into the action soon. Means I need to do some more research about the game areas, so updates could be slow, sorry. Along with me having two other WIPs and being in a large Bloodborne mood lately.

When Ornstein returned to the cathedral after Gwyndolin had dropped the illusion of the sun and the moon rose, he decided to stop by at the old silver knight ask box. It wasn't possible that there was any message in it, Smough had been the last one to ever use it and... Ornstein didn't want to think about it. Regardless, he felt like he wanted to look into it one last time before he would be on the road for some while and felt a flush of surprise when he indeed saw a note lying in it. 

Slowly, he grabbed the note, unfolding it, facing an unfamiliar handwriting.

“Thank you for the training and to be willing to stay around me. I made me feel so much more secure and happier. I am looking forward to our quest.”

That could only be.. the little storm. Ornstein read the note again. And another time. There seemed to be some warmth blooming in his chest. Finally, he folded it back together and slipped it into his armour. 

After Ornstein had looked at the box, he made his way to the kitchen and was greeted with a mouthwatering smell. Tempest appeared in the door frame, cheerily smiling at him: “You have been out for quite some time. I even waited for you.”

“We are going out tomorrow and I wanted to take a look at Anor Londo again.” Who knew when Ornstein would see it again. 

“I have cooked your favourite food and even prepared a surprise for later.” Tempest put a bowl from which the mouthwatering smell came right in front of him. Ornstein determined the dish in it as a fish-vegetable-stew. With trout and carrots. Some of his favourite ingredients. 

“Thank you.”, Ornstein said, starting eating. And having trouble to keep his face straight. The dish was so extraordinary well made, that his face automatically wanted to turn into a smile. It even reminded him of... Smough's cooking. 

“How do you like it?”, Tempest asked, both hands on the table, his upper body basically laying on it, voice shaking with excitement. 

“It's... good.”, Ornstein answered. It wasn't just good. It was fantastic, tasty, probably the best meal Tempest had ever cooked. But Ornstein couldn't get himself to admit it. He apparently didn't need to, because Tempest already smiled brightly at the rather lackluster compliment. 

“I am glad.”, Tempest grinned. “I gave it my all for this meal.” 

That was more than apparent. Ornstein didn't answer anymore because he was too busy with eating, he even asked for seconds, which made Tempest even vibrating more than he already had. It turned out to be... a comfortable silence. Ornstein didn't mind that Tempest was staring at him while eating, it even felt... cozy. It was nice to have some company. That was what the little storm was. Ornstein thought back at the note that had made him feel warm. No, he wasn't attached. He was company. Just company. 

Once Ornstein was finished with the second serving, he wanted to get up to retreat to his room, already a lecture on his tongue for Tempest to go rest too, when the small Undead gestured for him to sit back down. 

“I have a surprise prepared, remember?”, he said and Ornstein swore he was vibrating even more. If this would continue, it wouldn't surprise Ornstein if Tempest would become a literal storm and just fly away. His excitement was unmissable and also kind of... cute. He shouldn't find him cute. He wasn't attached. No, Ornstein was indeed not attached to the little storm. 

Ornstein still was questioning himself what kind of surprise Tempest had for him, he surely hadn't trained himself to master spear techniques when he had been busy cooking, when he came back with the plate full of cookies. 

Cookies in sheep form. 

Ornstein stared at Tempest aghast. “What... I have literally told you that I like sheep only this morning. How did you manage to prepare this?!” 

Tempest sat down opposite to Ornstein while the dragon slayer picked one of the sheep cookies up, eyeing it curiously. Tempest even had used a sugar coating to give the sheep cookies a woolly look. 

“I grew up in a tavern. It was usual that we got requests to make a meal and dessert in a short time. It had to be done in a few hours so we didn't had much time to think about what we did. I decided to make these cookies these mornings, when you told me about liking sheep and because of the cookie book I found.”

The small Undead carefully laid a book down on the table. Ornstein recognized it instantly. 

“Artorias...”, he said, finally taking a bite of the cookie. That was it. That was the taste of Artorias' cookies. Not even Smough had been able to recreate this exact same taste. Ornstein had a hard time to not break out into nostalgic tears. 

“I... have to apologize. I shouldn't have taken it. I should lay it back to where it was. I just always enjoyed making sweets the most and wanted to try out one of the recipes.”, Tempest said, but Ornstein quickly shook his head. 

“No, keep it... I am sure Artorias would have loved for someone to take over his recipes.” 

Even though Tempest would eventually become fuel for the first flame, Ornstein still felt that it would be better to give the cookie book to him. To a person who appreciated it. In the cathedral it would just lie around and get more and more dusty.

“These are... very good.”, Ornstein said once he was done eating the first cookie. “You are surely better at cooking than at fighting. Speaking of... did you mention that you grew up in a tavern?”

Tempest nodded. “Yes, just me and my mother. I always helped out with cooking and serving. I always thought one time I would take over the tavern once my dear mother retired.”

“Then... how did you die?” 

Tempest face fell at the sudden question but brightened up instantly. “Oh and here I thought you would NEVER ask this question!” 

He straightened himself up in his chair. “You know that I am from Astora. One day there was an attack from a giant beast.”

“The beast of the evil eye.”, Ornstein nodded. “That is well known, the story even made its way to Anor Londo. Is his how you died?”

Tempest shook his head. “No. But a lot of elite knights and soldiers died that day. So when there were rumours about a rivalling country invading, the young folks of Astora got recruited into a hastily constructed army. They gave us a brief course how to wield a sword, some armour and then we were thrown into battle.”

Tempest smile looked sad when he told the next part: “Of course I didn't stand a chance. I died before I could even strike down one single foe.”

“... And then you came back...?”

A nod. “Yes. Turned out I was cursed by the dark sign. Felt kind of strange, getting up after having died. Have been very confused. Of course I knew about that the Undead are all shipped to the Asylum. So I went to my best friend back then. I probably also did had a crush on him.”

Ornstein felt a pang in his chest about the mention that Tempest did had a crush once. That.. that wasn't right. Of course he could have a crush. It wasn't like they were attracted to each other. 

“But what do you know, when I told him everything and asked for help, he turned traitor and I got caught and shipped away.”

Tempest put both hands into the air and shook his head. 

“Needless to say I didn't had my crush on him after _that_. And here I thought we were friends.”

Why was Ornstein feeling relieved hearing this? Just why?

“I don't even know how long I have been in that cell, long enough to almost hollow for sure. Until this Astora elite knight dropped me the key to my cell. On a corpse. Shocked my mind right back into my body.”, Tempest finished his story. 

“An elite knight at the Asylum?”, Ornstein asked. “How curious, must have been an Undead too. But why did he free you? I mean, you don't feel like the, uh... right choice.” 

Tempest had gotten a few more muscles in their training, but even with a bit of military armour on, it must have been apparent how thin he was. He wasn't a fighter. Ornstein suddenly had a newfound admiration that he actually made it this far. Which turned into shame instantly when he remembered that he indeed lost to the little storm. 

Tempest shrugged. “If I would have known that. Maybe I was the only one left with a clear mind? When I explored the asylum, all I could find were hollows. A lot of them didn't even move anymore. Even that elite knight was going hollow. He gave me his Estus flask.”

Tempest fell silent for a short few seconds.

“Before I got crushed five times by that demon before I saw that there was a door I could run through. Back then I almost already lost hope. How should I be able to get past this thing only having a sword hilt with me?” 

“I am astounded that you even tried to fight a demon with a sword hilt alone.”, Ornstein said. 

“Look, I thought I had no other choice!”, Tempest replied with a heated voice. “It was either going forwards or going back to that cell and hollow for good. I preferred to go forward.” 

“And you eventually made it.”, Ornstein stated. Tempest just nodded. 

“I still feel like I wasn't the right choice. Chosen Undead? I don't feel chosen.”, he laid both hands on the table and placed his head on them, sighing. “Maybe being chosen just means that you are the one who made it...”, he murmured and Ornstein froze at how close Tempest came to the truth with this assumption. 

“Anyway, I better prepare for tomorrow.”, Tempest said, raising his head. “Enjoy your cookies!” 

And with that, Tempest ran off and left Ornstein alone with the cookies. The dragon slayer picked another one up, thinking about what Tempest had told him before taking a bite.

He better should prepare for tomorrow too. 

\---

Tempest was back in his room, looking at the different armour sets he had picked up on his journey. He probably could have kept wearing Ciaran's old clothes, but for one, he felt a bit disrespectful wearing them and for the other, they actually were a tiny bit tight in his crotch area and a bit too wide in the chest area. It just was apparent that these clothes originally had been made for a woman, even though their size must have been roughly the same. 

Tempest remembered that Ornstein had told him that speed came before protection, especially because he was such a small target. So Tempest decided to discard any plate armour or chainmail out at once. This left any sets made out of cloth or leather. 

Inspecting the ones made out of cloth, Tempest decided that he still valued a bit more of protection. He settled on a set he had picked up in the lower undead burg. A black leather set, probably once having been owned by a thief. It looked very close to Ciaran's old clothes, but it fit him better, probably once had been belonged to another male. 

He even put on the mask, but when he looked into the mirror, he found that he looked too much like a delinquent, so he decided to take it off. It didn't matter if anyone saw his face anyway. And he didn't had to fear scars, because he could heal any wound with Estus. 

Still, having his head not protected at all... He looked back into his belongings searching for a suitable helm. After he tried on a few, Tempest decided to go with the Gargoyle helm. It was made out of bronze and fit just right over his head and it even looked pretty good without hiding his face completely. 

It probably wasn't the best defense wise, but it was light enough to not feel uncomfortable and it would at least prevent his head to be split open. 

Now he needed to pick out a weapon. It didn't take Tempest long to decide, he had a newfound fondness of the silver knight straight sword, mostly because they had trained with it a lot. Even though Ornstein had trained him to not rely on a shield, he still felt more secure with one and picked out a simple knight's shield. 

Tempest felt secure in his outfit, so he could put the others back in the bottomless box. Would be a few trips back to the bonfire. Sighing, he picked up what he could carry at once and got on his way. 

After a few trips, Tempest was damp with sweat, but at least he had put every armour set back into the bottomless box. Now he only needed to wait for the night to pass. 

Maybe he should take another bath? Who knew when they would get back into the convenience of the Anor Londo cathedral. But what if Ornstein was in the bath? 

Tempest technically could just enter the woman's bath, it wasn't like there was anyone, but... he even kind of hoped he would run into Ornstein again in the bath. So he quickly got a towel, some soap and a basin along with a light night shirt he wanted to put on later, it was more comfortable running around in these at night and made his way to the bathroom. 

When he entered, Tempest had to realize with disappointment that Ornstein wasn't hear. Maybe he already had bathed. Maybe he didn't want a bath today. Maybe he would come in later. Whatever, Tempest mainly came here to clean himself up. Still, after he had made sure to clean every last corner of his body, the small undead decided to stay a while longer but the dragon slayer never came. Tempest eventually left the bath and decided to wait out the rest of the night in his room. He didn't need to sleep anymore, but laying down and closing his eyes helped him drift off and that made the nights pass faster. 

The next morning Tempest prepared breakfast. It was the last time. He knew they would go back into the archives. They would go back fighting. He would probably die again. Tempest would have loved to just stay like this. Forever. But he knew that it wasn't his fate. 

“When fate means having to die again and again and again, then it can suck my ass.”, Tempest murmured while cooking, slightly turning his head to the site only to see that Ornstein had appeared in the kitchen door staring at him. 

“Would you have been one my silver knights, you would have needed to pay in the swear jar.”, he casually said while strolling over to the table. “But you aren't and I feel you. Fate can indeed suck my ass too.” 

Now it was at Tempest to stare. “And you don't need to pay in the swear jar?”, he said while while stirring the pot. “Besides, you have said that Seath is a pain in the ass back in the archives. Shouldn't you pay double?” Ornstein chuckled. 

“I am the captain. Besides, there isn't any use for hard coins anymore.” 

“Fair.”, Tempest said, watching the soup swirl. “So... why do you think about fate... like this?”, Tempest asked. 

Ornstein sighed. “Just look around you. This ghost of a town should tell you everything you need to know.” 

Tempest didn't need any further explanation. Once Ornstein had been a legend, a hero. The dragon slayer. A respected knight with countless more knights under his command. Now... the city was empty. Ornstein's companion were all dead or had left. The person he shared the most special bond with was no more and had fallen to Tempest's own blade. 

“I am sorry.”, he simply said. Ornstein waved with his hand, as if saying “Forget about it.” Tempest finished the soup, filled it in a bowl and brought it over to Ornstein. He had decided to cook a simpler meal today. Maybe Ornstein was nervous. 

_Why should he be nervous? That man is the freaking legendary dragon slayer?_ A voice whispered in Tempest's head, but he still wanted to take this into consideration. 

After all, in these past few days he had learned that the dragon slayer was softer than he let on. 

While Ornstein was spooning the soup, he asked: “So, tell me how we should tackle our mission at the archives.”

Tempest took a deep breath and the spoke: “The archives is littered with crystal hollows, so we split up to take care of them one by one and only move on when we cleared out a room. I won't wander off on my own. Seath is a dirty hoe and we should only face him when we have found out how we can hurt him. I will obey your every command, but in return you will listen to me when I have a request.” 

Ornstein nodded at the end of the tirade of words. Tempest had noticed that Ornstein had frowned when he called Seath a dirty hoe, but he remembered that one day Ornstein had told him all about the paledrake. 

“Very good.”, Ornstein simply said. “We will leave 30 minutes after I finished eating, so get your things ready.”

Tempest nodded and was on his way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein and Tempest go back into the archives, but a plan has to be formed before they can challenge the pale drake. Maybe they can find some hints in the giant library?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's note: My apologies for the wait on this chapter. I needed to write out some Bloodborne stuff and finish one of my other WIPs but now I was able to dive back into this and we are even going back into the action.
> 
> Maybe we get this first lord soul soon ^^)

Ornstein found Tempest waiting in front of the cathedral, dressed in the black leather set he already had worn earlier in the kitchen, topped with a gargoyle's helmet, a silver knight straight sword in his right hand and a knight's shield in his left. 

“We trained so that you wouldn't have to rely on a shield.”, Ornstein scolded him, a frown on his forehead. 

“I know.”, Tempest said. “I just... I feel a little more secure with it?” 

“As long as it doesn't slow us down.” Ornstein had to admit, with the myriads of archers in the archives, a shield would be nice. Especially because the little storm didn't exactly wore armour that would secure peak protection of any sharp projectiles coming his way. 

“Let's go.”, Ornstein sighed. He wanted to get this over with. Hopefully the training would expose itself as fruitful and they were out of this place before the sun got dropped and replaced with the moon. 

Before they set off, Ornstein noticed that the two giant sentinels normally guarding the front gate of the cathedral were gone. 

“Huh, seems like my training already paid off.”, he murmured. 

“These guys!”, Tempest suddenly blurted out. “They look far more intimidating than they are. They are big, but slow. After training with you their movements felt like someone cast a slowing spell on them.” 

“Good, that means you will help me getting rid of the ones guarding the way to the archives.”, Ornstein said. 

“Oh, darn! I forgot they were more of them!”, Tempest shoulders hung low. 

“Let's... let's just go.”, Ornstein scratched one spike of his helmet, hand clutched around his spear which was standing loosely on the gorund. 

The both of them walked in silence until they came to their usual training grounds, where Tempest excused himself to use the bonfire. Ornstein also heard him chat with the dark moon knightess. She apparently told him a few details about Seath. Nothing special. She certainly left out the more juicy details. 

“Please excuse the wait.”, Tempest came running back to Ornstein with a smile on his face. Damn, it was that cute smile. That one that was half a grin and half joyful. Ornstein quickly jerked his head around and was very interested in the cobblestone instead. 

“Shouldn't you be more nervous?”, he asked. 

“I am nervous! We are going to fight a dragon! But at the same time, I am sure everything will turn out alright, because I am with you.” 

That hit right into Ornstein's heart. How could this little Undead put so much trust into him after that sparse time they had spent together? “That.. that hasn't something to do with you or such.”, he said, head high, prideful. He had to show that he was a lion. He was the dragon slayer, not some babysitter. “I simply follow Gwyndolin's orders.”

“Yes, right.”, Tempest said, unsheathing his sword as they walked towards the building which contained the statue of Smough. 

… Lately Ornstein hadn't thought much about Smough, but laying his eyes on this statue, the feelings rushed back to him and he just stood there, eyes locked on it, trying to fight the urging tears back. 

“Um, Ornstein, a little help?” 

Ornstein groaned as he saw that the little storm had managed to get picked up by the scruff of the neck by one of the sentinel's halberd: “How have you managed that, idiot?!” 

“I thought you would help!”, he cried as Ornstein already rushed in to take care of the giant sentinel who had Tempest on his weapon. Once he dissipated, Tempest murmured: “Oh no, that is not good...” before falling right into Ornstein's arm. 

“Th.. thanks for catching me.”, he said, his face seemed to be heated, with a slight red on his cheeks. 

“I.. I just caught you because you were practically falling into my arms... that means nothing.”, Ornstein said, putting the Undead on the ground. Damn, his own face felt flushed too. 

“Careful, the other one!”, Tempest shouted and rolled out of the way just in time before the halberd crashed on the ground. 

“Take care of it yourself.”, Ornstein ordered. “I took care of the other one.” 

“Alright!”, Tempest took his sword in both hands, circled the sentinel and hacked away at it until it collapsed and disintegrated into the magic it existed of. Now only the sentinel in front of the archives was left and was no match for their combined power. 

“Do we need to take care of the boars a second time, too?”, Tempest asked. 

“I don't think so. These aren't illusions or hollows. They probably have been the last ones in Lordran.”, Ornstein replied. 

And, in fact, the boars were gone so that Ornstein and Tempest had a very uneventful trip through the hallways, where Tempest sat down at the bonfire. “At least getting here was a breeze.”, he murmured. 

“Yes, but the real challenge begins now.”, Ornstein said. “So, what things don't we do once in there?” 

“Not going through any fog gates without asking first.” 

“Good, what else?” 

“Not storming off on my own.” 

“Perfect.” 

Ornstein was more than satisfied and stood up. Soon, the little storm followed him as he stepped on the elevator. 

“So, when we are up there, we lure the melee fighters to the platform and then I rush forward and take care of the archers.”, Ornstein explained, earning a little nod of Tempest. 

That plan worked flawlessly and while Tempest was busy fending off the crystal hollows on the elevator, Ornstein took care of the archers without effort before returning to the small Undead and help him dispatch the last foe. 

As they wandered to the doorway leading into the library, Ornstein heard the very distinct sound of a soul arrow and quickly hid behind the wall. The little storm however, wasn't that quick and got quite a hit on his right arm. 

“Ow.”, he hissed and nestled for his estus flask to heal the damage. “Ornstein, what are we doing?” 

Ornstein peaked into the room. That the channeler was back was baffling for him. They weren't Undead. Just how many loyal channelers had Seath left? 

“There are crystal hollows left and right. When we want to get rid of the channeler, they will surely sneak up. However, see this large book cases? When each of us takes care of the crystal hollows behind them, the magic can't come through and once we are done dispatching them, one of us can take care of the archers behind the channeler while the other takes care of him.” 

“Can I fight the channeler..? I am pretty sure once I have faced one of them and.. I just want to try.”, Tempest asked. 

“You sure about this, little storm?”, Ornstein grinned. What had happened to the scaredy cat the first time they had been here? Tempest nodded to him. 

“Very well then, let's go. I'll go right, you'll go left.”

Ornstein didn't wait for Tempest to acknowledge his words and took care of his portion of crystal hollows right away, all while he heard the sounds of soul arrows hitting the book shelves. Luckily, the channelers Seath still had with him didn't seem to be of the brightest sort. Once Ornstein had managed to to take care of his batch of hollows, he cowered behind the shelf and waited for Tempest. 

He could hear the clanking of a sword on crystal, the sound of a club hitting a shield and some mild cussing as Tempest seemed to make his way through his batch of hollows. Soon after, he came in sight, taking a sip out of his estus flask. 

“Ready?”, Ornstein signed with his fingers and Tempest nodded. Ornstein made sure to get rid of the archers as Tempest approached the channeler. 

After Ornstein had zigzagged between all of the archers on the stairs to make sure that no arrows would come Tempest way, he leaned against the railing and watched the battle of the channeler and the little storm. Clumsy like always, but at least the rolls of the small Undead managed to actually avoid any damage and soon after he drove his sword deep into the channelers back, blood splattering on the ground. 

“I did it!”, he cheered, bending down to pick up the trident of the channeler. “Oh look, he left his weapon.” 

“Don't waste time with this, you are not a sorcerer.”, Ornstein complained. 

“Ornstein! You could have helped me!”, Tempest shouted as he saw how casual the dragon slayer was leaning against the wall. 

“Why, weren't you eager to fight him all by yourself?”, Ornstein scoffed. “You are lucky he didn't teleport away! Probably thought you were easier to take down than me!”

Grumbling, Tempest walked up the stairs, trident still in his hands. “So you are telling me, you were helping just by standing around?” 

“Yes.”, Ornstein couldn't help but grin under his helmet. 

Now that a majority of the crystal hollows had been taken care off and the rest of them were patrolling around the landings, soon the both of them stood in front of the fog gate. 

“I think I can hear him breathing...”, Tempest murmured, an ear pressed against the fog gate. 

“The first time you were in there, did you notice anything?”, Ornstein asked. 

“No. It was too quick. There were crystals on the ground and then I died.” 

“Crystals... I know that Seath experimented a lot. I wonder if he used to try and replace his scales with something?” 

“Now that you mention it, I could get a glimpse at him and I think I indeed saw some crystals sprouting out of his body.” 

“It's probably safe to say that Seath has done something to his body to secure that he can't get hurt. Before we haven't found out what it is, we shouldn't face him.”

“How shall we find this out?” 

“We are in the archives.”

Tempest felt a drop of sweat form on his forehead upon the realization of Ornstein's words: “There must be millions of books here!” 

“Not millions, but thousands indeed. Searching through them would indeed be too much. For now, I suggest we go back and search for anything that can help us. Maybe Seath left some notes for us to find.” 

Tempest silently followed Ornstein back into the large library room. 

“So, where do we start?”, Ornstein asked. 

“How about we check left and right the stairs we used to get to the elevator?”, Tempest suggested. 

“Sounds good, let's go.” 

On their way, Ornstein scanned the book shelves, but he couldn't find anything worthwhile. Seath probably wouldn't just file his personal notes next to the usual books. When they would be able to find some secret stash of books, a place were Seath stored all that knowledge he had collected during the centuries... 

“Hey, look, there's a chest!”, Tempest called and rushed over, flipping it open.

Upon seeing this, Ornstein cleared his throat: “What are we doing when we see chests?” 

Tempest shrank in fear and took a step back, but approached the chest again when it didn't spawn teeth. “...Checking if it is a mimic.”, he answered. 

“You were lucky this wasn't one.”, Ornstein said and came nearer to look at the contents of the chest. Tempest was holding a twinkling titanite. 

“Hm, that certainly strengthen the theory that Seath uses crystals.”, Ornstein said. “Twinkling Titanite was pretty important for the silver knights too, their weapons could only be reinforced with it. You should hold onto that, you surely can use it for your sword.” 

“Guess I have to pay Andre a visit after we are done.”, Tempest pocketed the item. 

“Andre?” 

“A blacksmith in the Undead Parish.” 

Ah, another Undead probably. For the Undead, having weapons in top condition was very important, so a blacksmith would probably swim in souls when they opened up shop in Lordran. 

“There doesn't seem to be anymore here. Let's check the other side.”, Tempest rushed forward. Ornstein calmly followed him. His walking speed was more than enough to keep up with the little storm. 

“Hey, I see another chest!”, Tempest called and rushed over to it only to get hit by a crystal hollow that came out of a small alcove. 

“Ow!”, he shouted, swinging his sword blindly. “Where did you come from?” 

Ornstein didn't rush to come over and dispatched the second crystal hollow, who came from the balcony, in one hit. 

“That's why we don't rush.”, he said, leaning against the wall. Tempest's eyes were fixated on something else. 

“There's something lying there!”, he rushed outside and came back with another twinkling titanite in his hand. “Huh, Seath really liked this things. They are everywhere.” 

“It's safe to say he experimented with it. Why do you think all the hollows in here are crystallized?” 

“Makes sense, yeah.”, Tempest focused his attention on the two crystal hollows guarding the chest. He glanced at Ornstein. Sighing, the lion knight rushed forward with him and took care of one of the crystal hollows. 

“Now.”, Tempest said, taking a sip of his estus after his own foe was down. “Now I check, if it is a mimic.” With that, Tempest gave the chest a heavy kick. 

“No, you idiot! Use your weapon!”, Ornstein shouted, but it was already too late, the mimic had gotten Tempest's leg and eagerly chewed on it. 

“Ornstein, help!”, the little Undead screamed and Ornstein abandoned his spear to put both hands under Tempest's shoulder and pull the idiot out of the iron grip. As Ornstein did his best to not let get Tempest eaten, the little storm wildly swung around his sword, getting quite a few hits on the mimic until it had enough and spew him out. 

With the force Ornstein had used to pull Tempest, that meant that the both of them were practically falling on the ground, Tempest on top of him. 

“Th.. thank you...”, Tempest said. Ornstein could see how red his face was. Damn, his own face felt as red as the one of the little storm. 

“I.. I just need you with both legs, that's all.”, Ornstein said, head to the side, not having the courage to look the small Undead in the eyes. 

“I, uh, better heal this wound.”, Tempest said, getting up and limping away a few steps before taking a sip of his Estus. Ornstein was half aware that there was quite a bit of blood on his armour, where Tempest had landed. 

It was a good thing that the Undead could heal themselves easily like this. Still, this must have been hurt. 

“What about the mimic?”, Ornstein asked, but his question was answered as he saw the mimic dissipating and leaving the item behind it had stored. He went to pick it up. 

“A crystal shield.”, he said, tossing it to Tempest. “I think we surely are on to something.” 

Tempest didn't react fast enough to catch the shield and dropped it. He quickly bent down to pick it up. 

“So now what? Shall we search for books about crystals?” 

“...I am more interested in the experiments Seath had planned. We should head back to the prison tower.” 

“Ugh.”, Tempest didn't seem to be too keen about this. “I don't want to see this tentacle thingies again.” 

“The what?”

“There were these strange creatures, like half snake, half squid? Disgusting.” 

“Sounds like something Seath would do. Let's see if we can find the way back to the tower.” 

The next hour was spent trying to find the way through the giant library, dealing with the various crystal hollows, a lot of them archers, and two more channelers on the way. They also managed to pick up another twinkling titanite and a crystal sorcery on the way. After a short while the both of them already had enough of this place. 

“I swear, when I got one more arrow stuck into me, I'll scream.”, Tempest said after removing one of said errors and taking a sip of his estus, frowning as he saw how little of the orange liquid was left. 

“At least you can heal yourself.”, Ornstein said. 

“Yes, but you are wearing full body armour.” 

“That doesn't mean that the arrows can't get stuck in the joints.” 

“You are still more protected than me.”

“Why don't you just block the arrows with that shield of yours?” 

“Oh yes, I would do that, when I could actually see where these things are coming from!” 

Shrugging, Ornstein wandered farther: “Hm, just were was this balcony that led to the tower again... I knew that I completely missed it the first time...” 

“Hey, there is a balcony, maybe it's there!”, Tempest pointed into a room with his sword and then promptly was struck with another arrow. 

Ornstein winced as the small Undead cried out an ear piercing scream in his anger, rushing into the room. A few sounds of fireballs thrown at a crystal later Tempest returned. 

“This room leads down, you said the balcony to the tower led up.” 

Ornstein reached over wordlessly and pulled the arrow out of Tempest, who hissed in pain, sipping his estus. “Well, that was it with healing.”

“Just put this shield of yours to good use.”, Ornstein said, slightly annoyed. “Let's search for the right way.” 

A few rotating stair cases and two dead channelers later, Ornstein finally walked past the balcony he had searched. “I swear, this door looks super inconspicuous.”, he murmured, scratching his lion helmet. “Let's go, little storm.” 

Said little storm, looking more than battered up, followed Ornstein and said, with his hands thrown in the air: “By the gods, finally. Up there is a bonfire! I really need this right now!” 

On the way up, a couple of more crystal hollows stood in their way which were quickly dispatched by Ornstein's spear. Then, they stood in front of the massive door. 

Which had been brutally blasted open and sadly squeaked in its hinges. “Oh right.”, Ornstein scraped the ground with his foot. 

“At least it saved me searching for the key.”, Tempest grinned. 

A few dead snake soldiers later they sat in the cell Tempest apparently had been locked into where the small Undead eagerly filled up his estus flask at the bonfire. 

“I saw them at Sen's Fortress.”, he said, pointing at the snake soldiers. “Why are they here too?” 

“Seath's creations.”, Ornstein answered. “He simply gave a few of them out for Lord Gwyn to use and he decided to use them in Sen's Fortress. This place was usually a training ground for the silver knights. And to be honest, little storm, I have no clue how you survived this place.”

“I didn't survive it, I made it through it.”, Tempest said. “I died a dozen times or more in there. It was a bit better once I made it out in the open. Even though fire suddenly rained from the skies. And then... I ran into one of the Astora elite knights.” 

“Hm? I am pretty sure Lord Gwyn never had any Astora elite knights in his army.” 

“No no no, that's not what I meant, this was an Undead like me, but hollow. I think. He attacked right away with a bow. And when I got close enough he had this super fast rapier. I actually died to him. And even worse, I missed the bonfire up there the first time so I had to cross the fortress another time!” 

“Yes, it is pretty hidden.”, Ornstein grinned under his helmet. The silver knights didn't had the ability came back. Anyone who couldn't run the gauntlet hadn't been cut out to be a silver knight. 

Although, this place probably had become worse over the centuries. 

“Well, I managed to find the bonfire the second time. Sometimes little notes appear on the ground and they helped me find it.” 

“Ah yes, the orange soapstone. Someone of another time left a note for you to find.” Time in Lordran was convoluted and some special stones were able to exist through this convolution. As the little orange notes. Even Ornstein was able to lay them down, but without an army to lead there was no need to anymore. 

“And then I went back to this guy. I died a few more times, but eventually I managed to overcome him and when I picked up his rapier, I recognized it. This was Ricard, the Undead Prince. It is said that he set out on his journey ages ago! Running into such a legend felt...special.” 

“I don't have a clue who you are talking about. I don't give much about human heroes or legends.” 

“Of course not, you are a legend yourself. Anyway, behind him there were a few chests, one contained a ring and one contained this.” 

Tempest produced a bottle with a shining liquid. Ornstein recognized it at once. 

“A divine blessing... They have become rare nowadays. Actually, when you fought us, Smough and I were running out of them. Only one left... I left it in his grave.” 

“...Take it, Ornstein. I can heal up with my estus, but you can't. I am sure you can put it to good use.” Tempest practically shoved the item into Ornstein's hand. 

Ornstein eyed it for a few seconds, before shoving it back. “No, you take it. I can take care of myself. When I see how fast your estus depletes, you are the better choice to hold onto it.” 

Tempest stared from the divine blessing to Ornstein to the divine blessing again. “But...”, he started. 

“You said you were following my orders.”, Ornstein threatened. Tempest winced and quickly stored the item back in his belongings. 

“Now then, we have rested enough. We should move on.”, Ornstein stood up, using his spear for support. 

Tempest followed him: “Hm, when I was the first time here, there was this spooky tune playing, but I couldn't hear anything this time.” He went to glance over the side of the landing they were one: “Probably a good thing, it made these tentacle thingies wild the last time.”

Ornstein followed Tempest to look down too: “I guess this machine down there made the sound. Well, it seems we can descend freely now that it is off.” 

On their way down, Ornstein noticed the various cell doors: “Do you have a key to open them?”

“Yes.”, Tempest pulled a key out of his pocket. “But I don't think we would find anything there. I only see Crystal Hollows.” He poked one of them with his sword during the bars which promptly made the hollow groan and crash against the bars, making Tempest jump back. “Definitely prefer to not open them.” 

“Hollowed out prisoners are indeed of no help.”, Ornstein said, glancing in every cell they came along their way down. Once they were at the bottom, Tempest pointed at an opening in the wall.

“There they are! The tentacle thingies!”, he exclaimed. “Ew, all of them are at one place.”

“...Let's just get this over with. I see a rather large cell behind them. Maybe we can find something in there.”, Ornstein readied his spears. 

For a few minutes the sound of lighting and thrown fireballs were heard as the two worked themselves through the creatures. After they were done, Tempest sipped on his estus (he had been grabbed once) and then bend down to pick something up. 

“Miracles.”, he said upon inspecting them. 

“Let me see this.”, Ornstein came nearer to take a look and gasped. “Seath, that bastard... I always assumed that he had been the one to abduct Princess Gwynevere's maidens. This is proof!” 

“What are you talking about?”, Tempest asked, confusion in his eyes. 

“These miracles are granted by Lady Gwynevere herself. Bountiful Sunlight and Soothing Sunlight. Healing miracles that were often used by her or her maidens. But some of her maidens disappeared one day. We never could find them and now I know why, when they turned into this..”

Ornstein pointed at the burned and shocked mass of bodies in front of them. Tempest, however, didn't seem too listen. Instead, he had turned to the cell, shouting: “Logan?! You here?!” 

Orstein turned around to listen in as a male voice answered: “Hello again. What a chance meeting this is!” 

The voice belonged to an Undead sorcerer with a comical big hat. That wasn't his business. Probably someone Tempest had met on his travels through Lordran. 

“Why is it that I always seem to find you behind bars?”, Tempest chuckled. 

That Logan guy smiled sadly: “Alas, I am imprisoned once again. I don't suppose you could stage me a getaway? I surely hope it isn't our fate to always meet when I am behind bars.”

“Aw, come on, Logan, this place simply is dangerous. I myself needed help to get here.”, he pointed at Ornstein. 

“Oh, are you having a new companion?”, Logan asked. Tempest had an awkward smile on his face. 

“That is... kind of a long story. I am sure we can safe this for a later time.”

This Logan guy didn't seem to recognize him. Ah well, Ornstein was more a legend among the knights and not a legend among the sorcerers. 

“So, my dear friend, do you have a key that could help me out? The Archives, such a storehouse of knowledge. So close, but just out of reach! The thought offends me so, I could simply die! As a student of the arts, you understand me, yes?”, Logan said. 

“Hm, I have found a key, maybe it works here.”, Tempest presented the cell key and tried to get it into the lock. “It doesn't work.”, he noticed sadly. “Please don't die, Logan, I am sure we will find a way to get you out of here.” 

“You Undead can't die anyway.”, Ornstein interfered and felt both gazes of the Undeads on him, shrinking a little, quickly changing the subject. “Hey, um, Logan was your name?”, he started. “You said that you wanted to research the archives? Have you seen anything interesting, like a book or notes, before you got caught?” It was a blind guess, but the best Ornstein had. The sorcerer surely hadn't been snatched away and dragged to the archives before he entered them. 

“Hmmmm... yes, indeed. I have seen a place worth investigating, but before I could set a foot into there myself, I was found and captured. A library next to the large room, there was a hollow archer and a ladder led down to it.” 

“Wait a moment! I have seen this place!”, Tempest exclaimed, both hands clutching his gargoyle helmet. “You remember the archer I took out because I was done with getting struck with arrows? That room matches the description.” 

“Very well then, let's go there and see if we can find something.”, Ornstein turned around. 

“If you find a key, would you be so kind to come back and stage my getaway?”, Logan asked. Tempest turned around and gave him an “Of course.” with a smile. Ornstein only hmphed. 

“Maybe I should open up the cells now, the key could be there...”, Tempest muse. 

“Why should a cell key be in another cell? That doesn't make any sense.”, Ornstein grumbled. “Let's just search this library out. We are on a mission. Should we find the key by chance, we can go and free him.” 

Tempest nodded slowly: “Well, alright...”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this work, please consider leaving me a comment and/or check out my other works. Thank you very much.


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